Shaken
by memorysdaughter
Summary: In the exact opposite of the plot of "Assumptions," by PanicMoon15 … Skye is pregnant and even though her powers are making it difficult to hide, she hasn't told anyone. May finds out, and decides to redirect everyone's attention… which leads to Jemma assuming it's May that's pregnant instead. And that's just the first chapter.
1. Shaking

**A/N:** Hey everybody! Welcome to "Shaken"! Each chapter will have a different title, all synonyms for "shake" or "shaken," and each will somehow relate to the chapter's content.

As it said in the summary, this was originally conceived as a complete reversal of "Assumptions" by PanicMoon15. I combined it with half of a plot I had bubbling around in my brain (it was mostly Skye + powers + pregnant) and it ended up a little less funny and a lot darker (typical me), so here's the first part of that.

Thanks in advance to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows! I hope to live up to your expectations. Enjoy!

* * *

For the fourth morning in a row, Skye bolted out of bed, the acrid burn of vomit stinging the back of her throat. She stumbled the fifteen feet or so to the bathroom adjoining her bunk and managed to make it to the toilet before she had to throw up.

Several long minutes later, she sat back on her heels, sweaty, her stomach churning.

It was time to face facts. She could no longer pretend it was the flu, or a reaction to the sushi Hunter had "cooked" for dinner the week before.

She was almost positive, nearly completely definitely sure.

She was pregnant.

The thought twisted her stomach and she vomited again.

Her head roared and the world got wobbly. When she was able to straighten up again, she realized it wasn't just inside her head.

She was shaking the base.

Again.

And she couldn't stop.

 _Again_.

* * *

"Skye?"

It was May, her voice carrying through the locked door.

"Skye, I'm coming in," May said.

Skye's head swam and she thought she would vomit again. Undoubtedly May was at her door to ask about the shaking, but Skye didn't trust herself to not blurt out two horrible words – _I'm pregnant._

She took a deep breath and forced the shaking to stop. It burned her chest and she saw bruises pop up on her arms, heard the crackle and pop of her finger bones. The room went still and her head stopped roaring.

"Oh, God," she whispered, her throat burning. "I'm so sorry."

She had no idea if her earthquake powers would hurt her baby.

"Oh, _God."_ She was thinking of it as a baby. She was apologizing to the baby.

"Skye?" May was in her room.

Skye took another deep breath and felt her stomach settle. "In here," she called weakly, pulling down her sleeves to hide the bruises she'd just caused.

The door opened and May looked in at her. "What's going on?"

Skye looked up at her SO. "Uhh…"

She didn't have any words to describe what was happening and she knew that the longer she looked at May, the closer she was to blurting out those two damning words.

May took a few steps into the bathroom and crouched down next to Skye. "Are you… sick?"

"Uhhh…" Skye felt the room start swimming again and she forced down the quake that was rising up in her chest.

May put her hand against Skye's cheek. "You're burning up."

Skye leaned into May's cool fingers.

"Let me help you back to bed," May said, and leaned in to help Skye to her feet.

Skye winced as May's hands grasped her arms and her SO pulled back. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Skye said quickly. "Nothing."

She stood up on her own. "I'm fine."

She wobbled on the first few steps and then forced down another quake.

"Skye," May said, her voice clearly concerned. "You haven't lost control like this since… since before everything that happened with your mother and…"

Skye quenched another wave of nausea. "I'm just… not feeling well," she got out. It wasn't technically a lie.

May nodded. "Well, let's cancel training. Why don't you lay down?"

"Okay. Okay."

"Can I get you anything?"

 _A pregnancy test_ , Skye thought. "No… uh, no."

"All right." May gave Skye a look that clearly stated she knew there was more going on. "I'll be back to check on you."

Skye waited until May had gone, and then grabbed her laptop and pulled up the security camera feeds. The base was relatively quiet, and the video feeds showed her fellow agents cleaning up the damage from her round of shake-and-quake moments before.

Still glancing at the security feeds, Skye grabbed her wallet and the keys for one of the base's SUVs. She couldn't talk to May and she obviously couldn't ask Simmons to run a pregnancy test – she would have to get off base, find her own pregnancy test, and…

Her head roared again and she forced the quake down. Her chest burned and she heard more crunching noises ricochet up from her fingers.

"Shit, shit, _shit_." Skye's head was spinning.

She took a deep breath. Things settled around her.

"One step at a time," Skye muttered.

She checked the security feeds one last time. The hallways were clear, and she made a run for it.

* * *

Skye stared down at the little white stick in her hands. It was such an inconsequential thing. It didn't even look worth the effort to get it.

Somehow she'd managed to get from her bunk to the car without being seen, which was a miracle in and of itself. The middle part of the ordeal, that of getting to the pharmacy, finding the test, and buying one, had gone smoothly. On the way back into the base, one of the junior agents working on one of the quin-jets had called out to her, asking her several questions about something she couldn't even define, let alone answer for him. She'd smiled and told him to ask Mack or Fitz, and then bolted away from him as fast as she could.

Now she was locked in her bathroom, staring down at the stick.

At the two little lines on it.

They matched the two little lines on the diagram on the back of the box, the simplistic black-and-white picture with the caption "Pregnant."

Two lines on the stick. Two lines on the diagram.

No matter how many times she looked back and forth and back and forth, they stayed the same. Two pairs of two lines.

It was real.

Skye tossed the test on the counter. Her stomach was roiling again.

Her phone rang. "Skye? Are you feeling better?"

"Uh, sort of, sir," Skye said to Coulson.

"Good. Can you meet me in my office? I have a few questions about the mission to Fiji."

"I'll be right there."

Skye sighed and looked down at the test. At some point she was going to have to tell Simmons. Or May. Or, really, anyone. It might not hurt to have some concrete proof so they didn't think she'd totally lost her mind.

She groaned and shoved it into her pocket.

On her way down the hallway she felt the nausea rise up in her throat again, and her slow walk turned instantly into a sprint back to her room, to her bathroom.

She was blind with nausea and heat and fear, and she couldn't be bothered to stop when she ran into someone, barely able to blurt out, "Sorry" as she went by.

And she didn't notice when something from her pocket clattered to the floor in her wake.

* * *

May tried not to take it personally when Skye broadsided her. She could see illness and panic in the girl's face, and she knew Skye had left the base for… for something. Medicine?

Then May realized what Skye had dropped.

A pregnancy test.

A positive one.

May had just enough time to grab it up before the base started shaking again.

* * *

"No, no, _no_ ," Skye whispered, frantically grabbing her head as though by holding herself steady she could hold the rest of the world still around her. "Stop, please, _stop_."

She'd stopped vomiting only to find that she was shaking the base. It didn't make her any less panicked, any less worried, and the fight to control the shakes only caused more bruises to appear on her skin, purple and blue like angry fingerprints. Underneath she could feel her bones cracking and warping; pain ran up her arms and brought tears to her eyes. Things were quickly spiraling out of control.

The door to the bathroom banged open and May was standing there.

Skye looked up at her, sobbing and shaking now, her mouth lamely trying to get words out. "I… I can't…"

"Breathe," May ordered.

"Can't… I can't… I can't… stop…" Skye pressed her palms against her ears, trying to block out a world that in less than three hours had gone from predictable to absolutely upside-down.

May knelt down next to her, putting a hand on Skye's shoulder. The gentle touch sent pain ricocheting up and down Skye's arm, and she whimpered. The shaking grew stronger.

"I can't… I can't stop…" Skye gasped.

May looked down, seeing for the first time the bruises spreading across Skye's hands and arms. "Skye, did you…?"

"Please…" Skye whispered. "Please… make it stop."

"I don't know how," May said, feeling helpless.

Skye's panicked eyes jerked to the concealed weapon at May's belt, the ICER just out of reach.

"Skye, _no_ ," May said. "It might hurt the…"

Something shattered in the other room.

" _Please_ ," Skye wailed. "I don't care. _I don't care!_ Just make it _stop!"_

She was practically screaming and May could hear things toppling over in Skye's bunk.

"Oh, Skye," May whispered.

Skye reached for the ICER.

May beat her to it.

Bright blue light arced across the bathroom and Skye slumped to the floor.

The base immediately stopped shaking, but May couldn't shake the feeling that something deep inside Skye had been irreparably broken.

* * *

May carried Skye to bed and put a garbage can on the floor next to the bed. On the bedside table she placed a box of Kleenex and a glass of water. As she stood at the door she realized she still had the pregnancy test in her pocket. Unsure of what to do with it, she eventually settled for wrapping it in Kleenex and tucking it into Skye's sock drawer.

That accomplished, she let herself out into the hallway, closing the door to Skye's bunk behind her. She nearly ran into Coulson, and jumped when she saw him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Uh, yes," May replied.

"Are you sure about that?"

She nodded. "Just, uh… thinking about something else."

"What's going on with Skye?"

"She's sick. I guess that set off the tremors."

"I thought she said she was feeling better."

"She is most definitely not." May tried to breathe, tried to slow her heart rate. She was suddenly desperate to get away from Coulson, to bolt towards the lab. She had to find out if the dendro-toxin would negatively affect a pregnancy.

"Oh. Well, okay. I had a few questions about the mission to Fiji, but they can wait. It's more important that she rest and feel better."

"She's resting now."

"Good. I'll have Simmons check in on her and…"

"No!" May blurted before he could finish the sentence. She went red-hot and tried again to control her breathing. "Um, what I mean is, I have to ask her about something anyway. I'll ask her to check on Skye."

Coulson gave her a long look. "Okay," he said, and began walking away from her.

Then he stopped and turned back. "Melinda."

She met his gaze.

"You know if there's something you need to talk about… I'm always available."

"I know." She suddenly felt terrible about lying to him. "I… um… I'll let you know."

"Okay."

When she was sure he had gone, she headed for the lab, her heart still pounding in her ears.

* * *

"Agent May!" Simmons greeted her. "Fitz and I were just having some tea."

May looked at Fitz, who was using a roll of paper towels to mop up what looked like two extremely broken cups of tea.

"Well, we _were_ having tea," Fitz muttered. "And now we're not."

"Oh, Fitz. There's more tea," Simmons said.

She sounded so happy that May couldn't help but ask: "Something exciting going on, Simmons?"

"Oh, no, it's just… it's Tuesday."

May had to admit that Simmons had been abnormally grateful for every little thing since being pulled out of the Kree monolith. It was strange but May figured if _she_ had been sucked into nowhere and then spat back out three weeks later, she'd be happier about most things too. Maybe not coworker-induced tea-shattering earthquakes, but… most things.

"Did you need something?" Simmons asked, still smiling.

"Uhh… I had a question. About the dendro-toxin in the new ICERs," May said.

Fitz pushed tea mug shards into the garbage can. "Perfectly good mugs," he grumbled. "Might as well just start buying them in bulk."

He laid another layer of paper towels on the spilled tea and began sopping it up.

"Yes?" Simmons prompted.

May flicked her gaze to Fitz again, still grumbling and sopping.

Somehow Simmons understood. "Oh! Yes, please, step right this way."

She led May over to another corner of the lab and gave her an expectant look. "This is a personal matter, then?"

"Well, somewhat personal. And somewhat… hypothetical. Sort of." May was babbling like an idiot and she knew it.

"Of course. Anything I can do to help you. Or a hypothetical someone," Simmons said, her smile gentle. "It will remain confidential, I assure you."

May took a deep breath and thought of Skye's terrified face, of the bruises dappling the girl's arms, of the absolute loss of control she'd witnessed earlier. "The ICER… can the dendro-toxin… can it…"

She couldn't finish the sentence. Too many unnamed emotions were choking her.

Simmons put a careful hand on her arm. "Whatever it is, Agent May, I assure you that it stays between us."

"Can it negatively affect a pregnancy?" May asked, keeping her voice low.

Simmons' face froze. "Oh. Uh! Well. Goodness. I don't actually know."

" _Hypothetically_ speaking," May stressed.

"I'm not sure it's ever come up before," Simmons said. "I could ask Fitz, but…"

" _No!"_ May said, then realized how loud and panicked her voice had become.

"… but I think it would depend on how far along the mother was," Simmons said. "Closer to full term, it would carry many of the same risks of sedation or electrical shock."

"But if it was… _hypothetically_ … only a few weeks…?" May had no way of knowing how far along Skye was.

"Then I would be less concerned," Simmons said. "I'd still want to do examinations and tests, and I would advise avoiding something like that happening again."

"Oh." Something like relief flooded through May.

Then she realized Simmons was still looking at her.

"What?" she snapped.

"Is this because of what happened last week?"

The morning had been so difficult that May actually had to think about the events of the previous week. Then she remembered – on a recon mission, Hunter had aimed for a fuse box, intending to short out the security lights around the facility they were inspecting, and missed, getting her right in the side.

And because of that, because Simmons had no idea that Skye had begged to be ICEd to stop the shaking…

… Simmons now thought _May_ was pregnant.

 _Shit_.

"Uh, no. It definitely is not," May said. "It was a hypothetical situation, as I said before."

"Yes, you said that many times," Simmons agreed. She tilted her head, and suddenly she looked very wise. "I'm more than willing to support you through any situation, hypothetical or not."

"Oh. Uh, thank you. That's very generous."

"I'll support _both_ of you," Simmons said.

For a moment May couldn't figure out how Simmons knew about Skye, and then she remembered…

 _Shit. She's talking about me and a hypothetical fetus._

"And we're fully capable of doing all your exams and ultrasounds here," Simmons went on. "We have so much equipment, we're basically like an underground hospital. It's reassuring, really. We can handle almost anything, from…"

"Thank you, Simmons," May said firmly. "I… uh… have a meeting with the director."

"Oh, of course," Simmons said, the smile back on her face. "If you need any ginger, let me know. I've got a lovely ginger tea."

"Ginger," May said, hoping the answer would come to her.

"Works wonders on nausea," Simmons said. "You know, for morning sickness."

"Ginger," May repeated. "Good idea. Thank you."

Simmons beamed.

"Simmons, I've made more tea!" Fitz called. "Nothing's been shaking in about twenty minutes, so I figured…"

"Thanks, Fitz!" Simmons replied cheerily.

She turned back around to see only May's back as the woman hurriedly exited the lab.

Fitz approached with a mug of tea, which he handed to her. Carefully he went back for his mug. "What's that all about, then?" he asked.

"Oh, May's pregnant," Simmons said.

Fitz dropped his mug of tea.

* * *

Skye swam back to consciousness slowly, as though she was rising to the surface in a pool of thick syrup. The first thing she registered was the sour taste in her mouth. The second was the pain radiating up from her sternum and down through her arms.

The third thing was that May was sitting on a chair next to her bed, her SO's eyes trained on her.

"Um, hi," Skye said.

There was something sad and broken in May's gaze.

"I am _so_ sorry," Skye tried.

" _Never_ ask me to make that decision again," May said finally, her voice steel. "I _never_ want to shoot you again."

Pain swelled through Skye's body, emotional and physical, and tears flooded her eyes.

"I hate seeing you like that," May went on, her voice soft and emotional, and she wrapped her arms around Skye.

Skye sobbed into May's shoulder; May rocked her back and forth until the sobbing slowed.

At last Skye pulled back, her eyes red and her face sweaty. "What are we going to do?"

Though May was fairly certain Skye meant herself and the baby, she mentally expanded it to include all three of them in the room. "I don't know."

Skye's expression suggested that she was expecting her SO to have a plan.

"But we'll figure it out," May continued.

She hesitated.

"What?" Skye asked.

"I figured one thing out," May said, still seemingly reluctant to speak. "We have to figure out how to contain your powers, because…"

She trailed off, indicating Skye's abdomen with her chin.

Fear radiated down Skye's spine. Her hands shaking, she pulled her shirt up.

A mass of bruises covered her stomach and radiated up her ribcage.

"I… I did that," Skye whispered, nausea sloshing in her stomach. "Oh, _no_. No, no, _no_. I'm so sorry!"

May could obviously see Skye was close to losing it again. "Hey, hey, look at me," she said hurriedly. "Don't think about that now. I want you to rest, and then we'll talk to Simmons and figure it all out."

"But they're… but they're… she'll think I'm…"

May gripped her hands. "Shhh, shh, sweetheart," she said softly. "Right now you're here, and you're safe, and I won't let anything happen to you."

The fight leached out of Skye's body and she leaned into May.

"I won't let anything happen to either of you."


	2. Ripples

**A/N:** Wow! Thank you for the overwhelmingly positive response to the first part of this! I hope you'll enjoy chapter two!

* * *

"Do you know why Fitz just handed me a purchase order for a crate of coffee mugs, then slapped me on the back, winked, and handed me a cigar?"

May could feel a headache pulsing in her ears. "No."

"Where did he even _get_ a cigar?" Coulson was rambling. "And what are we going to do with…"

He looked down at the purchase order. "A _gross_ of coffee mugs? Remind me, how many are in a gross?"

"A hundred and forty-four."

"Who drinks that much coffee?" Coulson suddenly jerked his head up. "Oh God – you don't think this is some sort of weird… science… thing?"

"Phil." May rolled her eyes. "Skye's tremors broke their mugs during tea time."

"Oh, good," Coulson said, looking visibly relieved. "I mean, not _good_ , but at least it's not some sort of bizarre experiment. Or a British kinky sex thing."

May choked on her coffee.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Coulson said. He sat down at his desk, and for a few minutes it was quiet in the office as they looked through their mission reports.

The silence got to be too much for May. "Phil?"

"Hmmm?"

"How do you feel about babies?"

 _Three… two… one…_

Coulson's head snapped up. "Where did that come from?"

"Just wondering."

"That sounds like a dangerous thing to start wondering."

"I didn't ask you if you'd like to _have_ a baby," May pointed out. "Just your thoughts."

"I think this sounds like a grown-up conversation."

It was Coulson's way of stating firmly that he didn't want to talk about it, and May couldn't blame him. She didn't want to think about it.

Coulson's "grown-up" comment reminded her of Skye's terrified face, and her stomach lurched. Skye was barely more than a child herself, confused and upside down and faced with far too much responsibility even _before_ the whole pregnancy thing.

"May?" Coulson's voice broke through her thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Because I just called your name five times."

"I'm sorry. Just extremely fascinated by this report," May answered, holding up Hunter's report on their recon mission.

Coulson's brow furrowed. "Weren't you _on_ that mission?"

"Yes. But Hunter tries to sneak pop culture references into his reports, and I've made it a priority to find them all."

"How is Skye? What did Simmons say?"

"Skye's sleeping," May answered. "Simmons said she'll check on her later."

 _Or she will, when I ask her._

"I'm going to stretch my legs," May said. "Need anything?"

"A lighter."

"What?"

"For the cigar," Coulson answered, holding up the aforementioned item. "Where did Fitz even _get_ a cigar?"

May leaned in and looked at it closely. "Phil, that's not a cigar."

"No?"

"It's … well, it looks like a pretzel rod with a gold sticker on it."

"Hmm. I suppose that explains the salt that's in my pocket," Coulson said. "Ah, well."

He took a crunchy bite of the "cigar" as May left the office.

* * *

"Who do you think the father is?" Fitz asked.

"Shh!" Simmons cautioned him as they entered the kitchen.

"Is it Coulson?"

" _Shh_ ," Simmons repeated. "I wasn't even supposed to _tell_ you. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"Or maybe her ex-husband," Fitz went on. "He's handsome. Don't you think he's handsome?"

"Who's handsome?" Hunter asked, popping up from behind the open refrigerator door.

Fitz let out one of his girly screams and Simmons yelped, "Bloody hell!"

"Okay, okay, so I know it's only two in the afternoon, but I've been stuck in a windowless room writing mission briefs, so…" Hunter saluted them with the beer he'd obviously been looking for, and then took a long drink of it. "Now, who's handsome?"

"Fitz," Simmons blurted before she could stop herself.

" _What?"_ Fitz dropped the mug he was carrying. " _Simmons!"_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Simmons muttered, getting to her knees to pick up the shards of mug.

Fitz bent down as well, grumbling, " _Never_ going to get a bloody cup of tea…"

Hunter watched them amusedly. "You two hiding something?"

"What?" Simmons jerked her head up, only to whack it on the table. "Ow!"

"Why would you say that?" Fitz demanded hurriedly. "We never hide things."

"'S that why I found eighty copies of _Monkey Owners Monthly_ in the broom closet?" Hunter asked.

"We have a broom closet?" Simmons turned to Fitz, still holding her hand to her head.

"It's a quality publication!" Fitz protested hotly. "And for your information, we're only hiding…"

" _Fitz_ ," Simmons barked.

"… nothing."

Simmons got up and dragged the trash can over, putting the broken mug pieces into the garbage.

"Y' know you're not the most subtle people, right?" Hunter remarked.

"Hunter!" a voice barked from down the hallway.

"The little woman approaches," Hunter muttered into his beer.

Bobbi made her way into the kitchen, moving stiffly and slowly but upright on her own two feet, albeit with the aid of a cane. "Are you drinking _beer?"_ she demanded.

"Mission briefings!" Hunter whined.

Bobbi brought her cane up and whacked him in the shoulder with it.

" _Ow!_ Jesus, woman!" Hunter rubbed his shoulder.

"Is there more for me?" Bobbi asked.

"Ah, ah, ah," Simmons cautioned. "Not with your pain meds."

"He's the one man who could drive a woman to drink, and yet I can't…" Bobbi groaned.

"I'll give you something else," Hunter offered.

Bobbi pulled a chair out and sat down. "I don't want anything you have to give, Hunter."

"Not even my limited edition…"

"I don't want anything limited edition. It doesn't mean anything."

"FitzSimmons has a secret," Hunter said.

Bobbi turned to look at the scientists. "Really," she said, giving them a sultry grin.

"No we don't," Fitz said.

"We really don't," Simmons agreed.

"It's about someone handsome," Hunter went on.

"Ooh! Like…" Bobbi searched for a way to conclude that sentence.

"It's not about me," Hunter drawled, taking a long drink of beer.

"Never thought it was." Bobbi turned her attention back to Fitz and Simmons. "Who is this handsome mystery person you've got a secret about?"

"Uhhh…" both scientists said together.

"Simmons." May entered the kitchen from the opposite direction.

Grateful for the interruption, Simmons turned.

"I need your help."

"Of course, Agent May," Simmons said, beaming.

"Do you need _my_ help?" Fitz asked hesitantly, hoping that he could escape the kitchen before Bobbi and Hunter made him reveal the secret.

"I think Agent Simmons and I can handle this issue," May replied dryly.

Simmons left with May, leaving Fitz standing awkwardly next to the garbage can.

"So," Bobbi said, her voice gently probing. "What's the secret?"

"Yeah, c'mon, mate," Hunter added.

They both stared at him.

It was unnerving.

"Fine!" Fitz spat. "May's pregnant but if you tell anyone Simmons and I will… we'll… science you to death."

And with that he bolted.

As he ran for the lab, he heard Hunter's voice: "Huh. Who d'you reckon the father is?"

* * *

"Skye?" May knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

Skye blinked. It was suddenly darker in the bunk and she couldn't remember what time it was. "Uhh… sure," she said, pushing herself upright. How long had she been asleep?

Nausea twisted in her stomach as she realized Simmons was behind May, holding her medical kit. "Hi," Simmons said gently.

May turned on the lights. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…" Skye's brain was fuzzy. "Yeah, I'm okay."

The brighter light revealed the bruises splotching her arms and Simmons let out a gasp. "No, you're _not_. When did this happen?"

"Earlier," Skye answered. She tried to sit up further, wincing as her abdominal muscles contracted.

Simmons knelt down next to her bed, looking between May and Skye. "What happened?" she demanded.

Skye looked up at May, her stomach starting to roil again.

"Simmons, we're going to let you in on something," May said, only a touch hesitantly. Skye needed help and Simmons was the only one on the base who had the knowledge and expertise required. "But you have to promise to keep this to yourself, at least for now."

"I already know you're pregnant," Simmons snapped. "Skye's injuries take precedence at this point, don't you agree?"

May rolled her eyes.

Skye giggled. " _What?"_

"I… may have explained things poorly earlier," May said. "And Simmons… thought I was talking about myself."

This only provoked Skye into more giggles. "She thought… _you_ … were…?"

"Wait," Simmons said. "You specifically asked about pregnancy. And if it's not you, then…"

She whipped her head back to Skye. "Are you…?"

The giggles cut off abruptly. Skye nodded, studying Simmons, waiting for her friend's response.

"Oh," Simmons said faintly, and she sat back on her heels as though a giant weight was pushing down on her shoulders. "And this happened…?"

"The usual way," Skye said, shrugging. "Boy meets girl…"

"Not _that_ ," Simmons interrupted hurriedly. "Your injuries."

"Oh. I was trying to stop everything from shaking." Skye hesitantly pulled up her shirt, showing Simmons the bruises marbling her stomach.

"Dear God," Simmons breathed.

There was something on her breath – peppermint, maybe – but whatever it was twisted Skye's stomach and she shoved herself off the bed and bolted for the bathroom.

She vomited twice, every muscle in her burning. Her head pounded but everything around her stayed still.

"It was worse before," May said when Skye returned.

"And you had to ICE her?" Simmons asked.

"I asked her to," Skye said quietly.

Simmons turned to look at her. "We can't keep doing that."

"Don't you think I _know_ that?"

"And you can't keep doing _this_ to yourself, either," Simmons said, gesturing to Skye's bruises. "Eventually you could…"

" _Stop_ ," Skye growled at her, and the lamp behind her wobbled.

"Skye, breathe," May said.

"Don't you think I _know_ what's going to happen?" Skye asked, her voice getting louder and the roar in her head pounding. "Eventually I'll end up _killing_ the baby, is that what you were going to say?"

" _Skye_ ," May said, a little more firmly.

"Don't you think I'm already terrified enough? That this is happening and I have no control over anything my body's doing and I can't _tell_ anyone and…"

May stepped forward, positioning her body between Skye and Simmons.

"… and I can't fix it, and I can't make it stop." Skye's breathing picked up and she whimpered. "And it all _hurts_."

"She needs an examination," Simmons said. "Immediately."

The lamp's wobbles grew stronger and something in the bathroom clattered to the floor.

"I don't think that's a wise idea at the moment," May said, trying to keep her voice low and steady.

"I need to determine the amount of damage she's done," Simmons fired back. "She could have ruptured something internally, and the patterns of bruising on her arms suggest that at least one of those breaks is deeper than a fracture."

"I want her to calm down first," May said.

"Stop," Skye said, her voice a cracking whisper.

"She needed medical treatment _hours_ ago," Simmons snapped. "And instead you were _hiding_ it, hoping things would be all right…"

"No one was hiding anything," May retorted. "Skye was sleeping."

"Stop," Skye repeated, her voice slightly louder.

"Do you even _know_ the risks of an Inhuman pregnancy?" Simmons demanded.

"No, and I'm willing to bet you don't either," May said.

"Exactly! We're completely in the dark here, we have _no_ way to prepare for any complications, and I can see there already _are_ issues we've no idea how to deal with!"

" _Stop!"_ Skye shrieked frantically.

The lamp finally made it to the edge of the table and smashed to the floor.

In the half-darkness Skye slumped to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, sobbing.

"Oh, Skye," Simmons said. "I'm sorry."

"Go away," Skye said fiercely.

"I want to help you…"

" _Go. Away_ ," Skye growled. "Leave me _alone."_

She wasn't sure how long she kept her head to her knees, but when she looked up again, both May and Simmons were gone.

She was truly all alone in this, and that thought caused her to start crying all over again.

* * *

"Oh, it's gotta be Coulson," Mack opined.

"Really?" Hunter's lip rose in distaste. "You think he's really got it in him?"

Mack shrugged. "He's the Director."

"That has nothing to do with the man's sexual prowess," Hunter said.

"And that is as much as I want to hear about _anyone's_ sexual prowess," Bobbi interrupted.

From the hallway they could hear raised voices.

"This was _completely_ irresponsible!" Simmons.

"That's a new word for it," Hunter grunted into his beer.

"I told you what you needed to know when you needed to know it." May.

"You can bet she hasn't told Coulson yet," Bobbi said.

"How do you figure?" Mack asked, reaching for more pretzels.

"He'd be in here giving us chocolate or something," Bobbi replied.

"And you allowed us to just _leave_ her in there!" Simmons again. "While she could be bleeding internally!"

"Wait," Hunter said, raising his beer bottle in the direction of the arguing agents in the hallway. "Who are they talking about?"

"She needed a moment," May's calm voice replied. "Or did you want her to shake us out of the room?"

"Skye. They're talking about Skye," Bobbi said.

"Skye is my _friend!"_ Simmons protested, her voice getting louder. "And I don't want her to _die_ on the floor of her bedroom because she's bleeding out from an Inhuman pregnancy!"

Mack and Bobbi got to their feet nearly immediately and were out into the hallway before Simmons' voice had stopped echoing from the walls. Hunter was a bit slower to catch up, but eventually he joined them as well.

"Simmons," May said firmly, "Skye needs a minute to…"

"I'm fine." Skye's voice shook as she said it, but she approached the knot of confused agents steadily. She looked at Simmons. "You can examine whatever you need to examine."

There was something broken and defeated in her stance.

"Okay," Simmons agreed softly. "Let's go to the lab."

She took Skye's hand gently and led the other girl away.

Mack and Bobbi turned to May.

May shook her head, then headed down the hallway in the direction of Coulson's office.

"Hey, y'know what this means?" Hunter asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's definitely not Coulson."

His face fell nearly immediately into an expression of disgust. "It's… _not_ , right?"

* * *

"I'm sorry I yelled," Simmons said as she prepared to draw blood from Skye's arm.

Skye didn't say anything, but she looked away as Simmons gently inserted the needle.

"Why didn't you feel as though you could tell me?" Simmons asked once the blood had been drawn and carefully labeled. "After everything that happened…"

"I wanted to," Skye whispered. "I was so scared."

Simmons nodded, and squeezed Skye's hand.

"I can't even imagine what this is going to be like," Skye went on, her voice shaky. "Everything hurts, and I'm constantly nauseous, and…"

She shook her head, trying not to cry.

"We'll figure things out," Simmons said. "I excel at preparation."

Skye managed to laugh.

"And what's pregnancy but nine months of preparation?" Simmons pointed out.

Skye leaned forward and hugged Simmons tightly. Simmons brought her hand up and gently patted Skye on the back.

"Thank you," Skye murmured.

"You're my friend and I care about you," Simmons said simply. She leaned down and spoke to Skye's stomach. "And whoever you are, I care about you too."


	3. Turmoil

**A/N:** So, here's this.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows - you're awesome!

If you'd like to come tumbl with me on Tumblr, I'm memorysdaughter.

(To all of the reviewers who asked if the father was Ward, you don't know me very well... Hi, I'm memorysdaughter and I'd rather have dental surgery in a Turkish prison than see good things happen to Ward. Thanks for playing.)

And a shout-out to agents-of-frickle-frackle on Tumblr, for that vernacular.

Enjoy!

* * *

While Simmons was waiting for the blood tests to be done, Skye curled up on the examination table and fell fast asleep, leaving Simmons staring at the centrifuge and her other machines, pulsing away as they attempted to ferret out the mysteries in Skye's blood.

After about twenty minutes of that, Simmons realized she needed to deal with Skye's other problem – the injuries caused by the earthquakes. She stood up and rummaged around in a storage cabinet, eventually coming out with one of the first prototypes of Skye's casts. They would take a bit of tweaking, but eventually they could be reconfigured in a way that would help Skye's newest injuries to heal.

She was still working when Skye rolled to one side and began to moan softly, sounding hurt and scared. Simmons moved towards her friend and carefully touched Skye's wrist, trying not to touch any of the new bruises splotching Skye's skin.

Skye's head jerked to one side and she pulled her knees closer to her body.

"Skye," Simmons said gently.

Skye flopped to the side, brow furrowed, breathing picking up.

"Skye," Simmons said, a little louder. "You're having a bad dream."

Skye whimpered and her arms jerked up towards her body, as though she was trying to keep from being hit in the face. Her body spasmed forward and she jerked upright, breathing heavily.

For a few long seconds she leaned forward, panting as though she'd run a marathon, her hair forming a curtain around her head. Eventually her breathing slowed and she reached up to brush her hair away. She looked up at Simmons with something like embarrassment in her expression.

"Are you all right?" Simmons asked softly.

Skye shook her head and tried to say something.

Simmons saw something in her eyes and grabbed the trash can, holding it out to Skye.

Skye managed to grab it in time and leaned over it, emptying her stomach contents into the bin. When she sat back her face was pinched and sweaty.

"Can I get you anything?" Simmons asked. "Water?"

"Water would be okay," Skye croaked.

Simmons brought her a bottle of water and took the trash can from her grasp. While Skye took a long drink of water, Simmons studied her. "Was it about your mother?"

"Was what about my mother?"

"Your dream."

"More of a nightmare," Skye answered, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle. She sighed. "It's there every time I close my eyes. Her face. Trying to choke me to death. Taking all of the energy out of my body. And then the plane, and my dad, and…"

As she spoke the air started to wobble and vibrate around her, sending tremors out across the room, shaking glassware and equipment.

"Skye," Simmons said gently, reaching out to touch Skye's arm.

Something in the touch grounded Skye, and the wobbling stopped.

"I know it can't have been easy," Simmons said. "You waited for so long to meet your parents, and then when you found them, things were so complicated."

Skye let out a short bark of a laugh. "That's a very British way of putting it."

She tipped her head forward and scrubbed at her face with her hands. "My dad was crazy, and then helpless, and then crazy, and then he made the hardest decision anyone should have to make, and now he doesn't even know who I am. And my mother… she was so terrified of losing what made her special, of what made the people around her special that she ended up losing all of it."

"Not all of it," Simmons said. "You're still here."

Skye raised her head.

"And Lincoln," Simmons went on.

Something flitted across Skye's face at the mention of Lincoln, and Simmons tilted her head. "Lincoln," she repeated.

"What about him?" Skye's walls went back up immediately.

"Is he…?" Simmons trailed off awkwardly, settling for extending her hand towards Skye's still-flat abdomen.

Skye sighed and looked away.

"I mean, you don't have to tell me," Simmons said, "but…"

"No, it's him," Skye said.

"Is that why he left?"

"He left because we had intel on a gifted in the back woods of Saskatchewan," Skye answered. "It might be why he didn't come back."

"So he knew?"

"No," Skye said. "But he might have figured out that things got weird between us in the last couple of weeks."

One of Simmons' machines beeped and she looked over at it. "At least it's not…"

Then she hesitated, caught halfway between the machine and Skye.

"No, go check on it," Skye said. "I should probably go tell Coulson why I didn't show up for our meeting about the mission to Fiji."

She swung her legs over the side of the examination table and tried to stand up. She got upright but before she could take a step forward, her legs wobbled and her knees gave out and she crashed to the floor.

"Oh, God," Simmons said, hurrying over. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Skye mumbled. "Just got woozy."

"Sit down," Simmons ordered, and Skye winced as she repositioned herself into a seated position. "When was the last time you ate?"

Skye blinked, hard, and thought. "Yesterday? Day before?"

Simmons shook her head. "I'll get you some crackers and ginger ale."

She was gone before Skye could tell her that even the thought of those boring and bland foods was twisting her stomach.

* * *

May entered Coulson's office to find that Fitz was there, talking about something expansively with a good deal of hand movements.

Coulson looked up at her, his expression troubled. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

May glared at Fitz, who immediately dropped his hands. "I'm… I'm sorry," he said. "I just thought…"

"Is this why you were asking me about babies?" Coulson asked.

"No," May said.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes."

"When were you going to tell me you're pregnant?"

 _Oh, yeah. Fitz wasn't there when everyone found out it's Skye_.

"May?" Coulson's voice broke through her thoughts.

"I'm not pregnant," May said.

"What?" Fitz squeaked. "But Simmons…"

"Simmons didn't know the whole story," May said, and she sighed. "I guess there's no easy way to tell you this."

"For God's sake, _someone_ tell me what's going on," Coulson demanded.

"It's Skye," May said. "Skye is pregnant."

As though her words had been a punch to the sternum, Coulson leaned back in his chair, looking shell-shocked. "What?"

"Skye," May repeated. "She's pregnant."

"That's… that's _worse_ ," Fitz said, suddenly sounding terrified. "I mean, she's just figured out how to use her powers, and control them…"

"And that control is slipping," May said frankly.

"The tremors this morning," Coulson said.

May nodded.

"Oh," Coulson said faintly.

For a moment the office was silent. Then Fitz spoke. "It's not _Ward_ , is it?"

May and Coulson turned and looked at him.

"The… uh… the father," Fitz said.

Coulson's expression of disbelief turned to near-rage in a split second. "It better _not_ be."

May rolled her eyes. "Let's think about this logically, gentlemen. The last time Skye saw Ward we were on a mission to the Arctic, and nothing about that says 'sexy time' to me. In addition, Simmons was with them the majority of the time and I'm almost positive she would have mentioned them… doing the frickle-frackle in a HYDRA base."

"Oh, _God_ ," Coulson groaned. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Fitz asked," May said firmly.

"And is regretting it immediately," Fitz mumbled.

"So no, I don't think it's Ward," May went on. "But it doesn't matter _who_ it is. They don't need our help as much as Skye does."

A beat, and then Coulson spoke again. "You're right," he said. "Of course."

Fitz nodded.

"Do you think…"

Coulson's words were interrupted as the base began to shake around them.

"Where is she?" he demanded of May.

"The lab. With Simmons," May replied.

"Let's go. _Now_."

* * *

Simmons returned from the kitchen with crackers and ginger ale and had about ten seconds to put them on a table before everything started shaking around her.

She hurried around the corner and found Skye on the floor exactly where she'd left her, but Skye had obviously lost control again.

"I can't make it stop," Skye sobbed as Simmons knelt down beside her.

"Breathe," Simmons said, trying hard not to make the situation worse.

Skye managed to suck in a gaspy breath. Simmons could hear she was still wheezing and her face was pinched, her whole body trembling with anxiety.

"I can't," Skye whimpered. "I can't make it stop."

Simmons took Skye's hand in hers, noting that the other girl's fingernails were going slightly purplish. "Skye, you're having trouble breathing and I want to give you some oxygen to see if that will help."

"I don't want…" Skye panted. "No, please…"

"You need help," Simmons said firmly.

Within a few minutes Skye had an oxygen mask over her face and a monitor clipped to one finger to keep track of her heart rate and saturations.

"I can't do this," Skye said, her voice muffled behind the mask. "I can't… I can't…"

"Right now, all you need to do is breathe," Simmons said gently. "We'll figure everything else out as it comes."

"I'm not…"

"Breathe," Simmons said. "Everything else can wait."

Skye closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

Her heart rate slowed and her saturations came back up, and the shaking around them stopped.

Skye opened her eyes to see Coulson standing a short distance away. He looked undeniably sad, and confused, and pain arced across Skye's chest when she realized that _she_ was the cause of those expressions.

"I'm sorry," she said to Coulson.

He shook his head and approached her, kneeling down next to her. "You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice calm and gentle.

"But the shaking…"

"Do you really think we can't handle that? We went through it before, we'll go through it again."

"And the mission briefing…"

"Can be postponed," Coulson said. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed it, mindful of the bruises. "What matters now is that you take care of _you_."

Fresh tears welled up in Skye's eyes and though it hurt like crazy, she squeezed Coulson's hand in reply.

"We all have times of difficulty," Coulson went on. "And we all support each other."

Skye looked around, seeing Fitz standing behind Simmons, May to Coulson's left, and Bobbi, Hunter, and Mack in the doorway.

"We fight for what matters," Mack said.

"And _you_ matter," Bobbi added.

"And this kid's gonna be amazing," Hunter said, raising his beer in a salute. "Like Zeus."

" _What?"_ Bobbi turned to him.

"Y'know, with the…" Hunter waved his hands around as though he was shooting lightning bolts from them.

"Just ignore him," Bobbi said.

"I always do," Skye managed to say.

"Nah, it'll be sweet," Hunter said. " _Pew-pew-pew_. Lightning and thunder – _boom!_ "

May rolled her eyes.

"Aside from Hunter, we're all onboard," Coulson said.

"And Hunter _will_ be onboard," Bobbi agreed. "Like, maybe tomorrow. He's had about six beers."

"Uncle Fitz will teach her science," Fitz offered. "And to love monkeys."

Simmons looked up at him. "You don't know it'll be a girl. It's far too early to determine sex."

"Think that part already happened," Hunter snorted into his beer.

Bobbi punched him in the shoulder.

"Meanest woman in the world," he muttered.

"Women always are when their friends are mocked… or when their ex-husbands drink all the beer," Bobbi said.

"Yeah, but Simmons said…"

As the bantering argument grew louder and Mack herded the two bickering lovebirds out into the hallway, Fitz and Simmons moved away to discuss something with Coulson, and May sat down next to Skye.

"It's true," May said after a moment.

"What is?" Skye asked. She was feeling drowsy again, and leaned up against May, her head on her SO's shoulder.

May didn't pull away. "We fight for what matters."

Skye blinked, slowly, and then closed her eyes, limp and exhausted.

"And you matter," May murmured. "You matter a great deal."


	4. Reeling

**A/N:** Here this is! I stayed up far too late finishing this chapter, but I don't have to work until 4 today and I have Saturday off (!) which doesn't happen often.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows. I love reading reviews and I'm doing pretty well keeping up with responding to all of them, so if there's something you want to see in the upcoming chapters, please let me know!

Once again, I bow down to the amazing agents-of-frickle-frackle on Tumblr, for the amazing phrase "frickle frackle." Two thumbs up and ten points to Gryffindor!

Here we go - enjoy!

* * *

May walked into the training room the next morning to find Skye already sitting on the bench near the door.

"How long have you been here?" May asked.

Skye turned and looked up at her, eyes bloodshot, bruises seeming even darker than the day before, casts tightly returned to her arms. "All night," she rasped. "I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stop vomiting and shaking and…"

May held up her hand. "Stop right there. You know we can't train, not with you as you are…"

"I did reading!" Skye protested. "Pregnant women can exercise up until…"

"I'm talking about your bruises and your fractures," May said shortly.

Skye fell silent, her head drooping.

"We can still meditate and do tai chi," May informed her, a little less aggressively.

Skye didn't look up. May sat down next to her and rubbed her back. Skye shuddered and May realized she was crying. For a few minutes they sat together, neither saying anything. May waited for Skye's sobs to slow and then subside.

Eventually Skye looked in her direction, still avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry," she said in a low voice.

"You have nothing to apologize for," May said.

"All the work I did to learn to control it… it's all worthless."

"It's not worthless."

"Can't even protect myself, lost everything that matters, and now…"

May cut her off. "You haven't lost everything. I'm still here. Everyone else is still here. We're going to support you to the best of our abilities. We don't give up on anybody around here, Skye."

Skye rubbed her forehead.

"And none of this is worthless," May went on. "The control you had… _have_ … you can strengthen and regain. Simmons told me that dendro-toxin is not _ideal_ for someone in your condition to withstand, but that if it's _necessary_ we can continue to use it up until the second trimester. Which is… how long?"

Skye thought about this. "Eight weeks."

"Okay," May said. "So we've got a goal."

She turned to the side and picked up one of the travel mugs she'd brought into the gym and handed it to Skye. "Ginger tea. Simmons says it does wonders for nausea."

Skye took the cup and sipped the tea hesitantly. "It tastes terrible," she said.

"Give it a few minutes," May said.

"When did you talk to Simmons?"

"Before I came in here." May took a drink of her coffee. "You're not the only one who was up all night."

* * *

"It's fascinating, Fitz," Simmons said as her partner entered the lab with two cups of tea.

"What's fascinating?" he asked. "No, let me answer that. Nothing. Nothing before seven in the morning."

"Come now, Fitz," Simmons said. "Don't you remember all of the fun we had at the early-morning crosswords tournaments at the Academy?"

"No," Fitz said, and passed her a cup of tea. " _You_ always won, and I was always asleep with McDonell in the back of the room."

"Really? How odd."

Fitz took a long drink of his tea. "Did you go to bed at all last night?"

Simmons looked up at him, pushing up her lab goggles. "No! Why would I sleep?"

Fitz frowned at her.

She sighed. "No. I didn't sleep. Skye wouldn't go to bed, so I told myself I'd stay up until she went to sleep, and…"

She gestured to the windows behind him, which looked into the small training gym May liked to use for morning workouts. Skye was sitting on the bench next to May, looking absolutely wrecked.

"I fixed her casts first," Simmons said. "And researched which pain medications were safe, so I could give her some. And used the ultrasonic scanner on her arms to figure out which of her bones she broke."

She pointed to the light-box mounted on the wall, and Fitz moved towards it to see the scans of Skye's arms. "Bloody hell," he murmured.

Skye's bones showed up bright white on the films. Fractures resembling spider webs crackled across most of her arm bones. In a few places there were obvious breaks.

"I don't know what to do about that," Simmons agreed, coming up behind him while sipping on her tea. "Actually, I don't know what to do about most of this."

Fitz turned back to her. "Let's talk it out," he suggested.

"Nothing to talk about," Simmons said. "Skye's DNA and Lincoln's DNA… there's no way to predict how the match-up is going to affect the fetus."

"Lincoln," Fitz said.

"Hmm?"

"What do we know about him?"

"Other than he's Inhuman, can control electricity, and obviously knows Skye well enough to…"

" _Stop_ ," Fitz said firmly. "I don't want to talk about that part. I'll get… uh… bad memories…?"

"Flashbacks."

"Right. To May saying 'frickle-frackle' in Coulson's office." Fitz shook his head.

Simmons sighed. "We don't know anything, Fitz. And although there's literally _nothing_ on it from all the things we recovered from Afterlife, simple genetics seems to imply that there's a very good chance the baby will be Inhuman."

"Makes my brain hurt," Fitz muttered.

"Well, Skye was half-Inhuman and I'm assuming Lincoln was half-Inhuman from Skye's description of his transition. Which, as par for the course with her, was vague. I ran all the possibilities, and until I can figure out whether Inhuman biology is dominant or recessive, I would say that the baby has a 75% chance of being either full Inhuman or half-Inhuman."

Simmons looked out through the windows, seeing May rubbing Skye's back again.

"Sounds like whatever happens, somebody's going to end up struggling. Her, us, or that baby," Fitz said, and he walked away from Simmons, off to work on his own projects.

* * *

"Agent Morse. Thank you for joining me," Coulson said as he greeted the blond agent. "Can I interest you in a pastry?"

"I'm not being fired, am I?" Bobbi asked as she limped her way into his office.

"No. Why?"

"Pastries aren't exactly common around here," Bobbi replied.

"Oh. Well, no, but I had a craving this morning, so Lola and I took a ride." Coulson closed the door behind her. "Please, have a seat. And a pastry."

Bobbi smiled and took the chair he indicated. A pink bakery box was on Coulson's desk; she reached forward and removed a delicious-looking bear claw from inside. "This looks great."

"They're _amazing_ ," Coulson said. "Almost good enough to make me want to recruit the baker."

He laughed and took a similar pastry from the box as he sat down at the desk. "Okay. So, I need your assistance on a few matters."

"Of course," Bobbi said.

"Let's talk Lincoln," Coulson said. "What do we know?"

Bobbi shifted in her seat. "Four weeks ago he departed for a commune in Saskatchewan, Canada. We had intel that a gifted individual has been living there, claiming he is a guru sent from God."

"Interesting," Coulson said, munching on his bear claw.

"Yes. Apparently this man can levitate and cause other objects to move around him," Bobbi went on.

"What do we know about the commune?"

"I'd have to look at the mission file to be sure, but at our last inventory they were living on about ten acres with a central group of dwellings. Some of the rest is used as farmland. The rest is forest."

"So they're in a rural area."

Bobbi nodded. "More than fifty miles from the nearest settlement. They're self-sufficient, isolated, and they have good natural cover."

"Are they armed?"

"The final report from the on-the-ground tactical surveillance team suggests no," Bobbi said. "But as we all could attest, everything turns into a weapon when someone is threatened. And God only knows if they've got some sort of underground bunker."

"Who are the cult members?"

"We have very little intelligence on them. Some of them have no on-the-grid presence. The only two cult members with any relative previous life information are a doctor who once performed heart surgery on conjoined twins and a man who was struck by lightning while leading a marching band."

Coulson winced. "That couldn't have been pretty."

"Otherwise we just don't know," Bobbi said. "The final count put them at seventy-five souls."

"Any idea what their selling point is?"

Bobbi shook her head. "We have some documents on their ideology, but it's all banal cult drivel. Our Guru is the Guru and he is the Guru who is the Guru…"

"As palatable as wallpaper paste," Coulson grumbled.

Bobbi agreed with a nod of her head, eating the rest of her pastry.

Coulson tapped his fingers on the desk and looked out the window. "What are the odds they've… well, let's see… _adopted_ Lincoln?"

"You're asking me if he was brain-washed?"

"I'm suggesting that there might be a reason he hasn't come back."

"Other than Skye's pregnancy?"

"I don't think he knew about that," Coulson said. "I don't think _she_ knew about it much before this, so we have to look for other explanations."

"All our on-the-ground contacts left the area at least a week ago," Bobbi said. "We have no eyes and no ears on the place."

Coulson nodded grimly. "So, to recap – we don't know much about him, we don't know what happened to him, and we have no way of finding out more information on either him or his location."

"That about sums it up, sir," Bobbi said.

"Then I'm glad I bought pastries," Coulson said. "Might as well have something good to start off the day."

And though they hadn't planned it, they both raised their bear claws to their mouths and took bites at nearly the same time.

* * *

Skye lasted through four minutes of meditation before her stomach rebelled. She bolted upright, nearly knocking May over in the process, and heaved into the garbage can. Part of her felt horrible and disgusting, and the other part of her was just glad to have the nasty ginger tea out of her system.

The vomiting stopped and her knees wobbled. Strong arms caught her from behind and lowered her to the floor.

"When was the last time you ate?" May asked.

"Uhhh…" Skye's brain was foggy and her stomach was still sloshing around.

"That is _not_ the right answer." May moved to the doorway and Skye could hear her talking to someone.

Skye curled into a ball and closed her eyes. She felt like she was on a ship, a pirate ship, rocking back and forth on the stormy seas. There was no up, there was no down, there was only pain and nausea and the threat of more of both.

The wave of nausea overwhelmed her and she tried to get up to vomit. Her body went limp and she gagged. More of the brown tea dribbled out of her mouth.

"Help," she whimpered.

"Simmons!" It was May's voice. May was there. May could fix it.

May knelt down beside her. "Skye, keep your eyes open. _Skye_ , listen to me."

Skye blinked and May's face swam over her. "I'm… not…"

Her eyes closed.

" _Skye_." May sounded mad.

Skye forced her eyes open. Now Simmons was kneeling at her side, hands moving and medical jibber-jabber spouting from her mouth. Fitz stood behind her, handing her doctor-y things. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

"I can't…" Skye managed to say, and she closed her eyes again.

* * *

"Damn it," May said when Skye closed her eyes. "Skye, wake up."

Simmons leaned in with a tube and a whirring machine and began clearing Skye's mouth. "Poor dear," she murmured.

"She hasn't eaten in days," May informed the scientist.

"I thought as much," Simmons said. She flicked off the machine and handed it back to Fitz. She took another device from her kit and leaned in. "Ah, yes. That makes sense. Her blood sugar is twelve."

"I'm assuming that's bad."

"It's… it's very bad." Simmons looked over at Fitz. "Will you go and get the supplies ready for intravenous nutrition? We'll have to figure out how to thread a catheter into someplace that won't hurt her if she shakes it loose."

Fitz nodded and left the gym.

May looked down at Simmons, who had her hand to her forehead. "Simmons."

"Hmm?"

"Is this…" The words suddenly choked May. "Is she…?"

"I don't know," Simmons answered quietly. "I don't know if it's safe for an Inhuman to carry a child – obviously it is, since her mother did it, but I don't know how it will affect her body – her mother could heal quickly."

"Will it…" May felt like there was a thick rubber band around her throat. "Will it kill her?"

"At this point…" Simmons sighed, still not looking up at May. "If we don't get some nutrients and fluids into her, there's a very real possibility of a serious outcome. Not eating or drinking means she can't even heal the damage she's done to her own body, let alone provide the essentials to…"

She trailed off, obviously still uncomfortable.

"The baby," May finished for her.

Simmons nodded. She seemed to be on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Okay," May said. "We'll take it one step at a time. Let's get her nutrients and fluids. Maybe something to stop the nausea. And then we'll go from there."

Tears in her eyes, Simmons nodded again. Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her supplies and got to her feet, then headed back to the lab.

May leaned down and scooped Skye off the floor. "Let's go fix this. We're going to fix this," she murmured, though she wasn't quite sure who she was trying to reassure.


	5. Broadsided

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows. You're awesome!

I have no explanation for most of this, except for the part where I really, _really_ enjoy writing snarky!Hunter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye moaned when Simmons slipped the IV cannula into a vein in her foot, but she didn't pull away.

"That's good, right?" Fitz asked. He was holding Skye's leg, just in case, but definitely looking away from the process.

Simmons shook her head. "No. It means her pain receptors are too dulled by the lack of nutrition to respond. I could have hit her with a hammer and she'd _maybe_ pull her leg back."

She sighed and started connecting the cannula to the bags of fluid and parenteral formula she'd hung above the bed.

"She needs time," Fitz said.

"The baby doesn't have time."

"It's not a baby yet, Jemma," Fitz said. "It's a… um… an embryo."

"I know, Fitz," Simmons snapped.

"And Skye is our friend. She's more important."

"Is she? She kept this from us, just like she kept her powers. What else is she hiding?"

"Stop," a stern voice ordered from the door. May approached them, carrying a book and a cup of coffee. "Don't argue in here. Go out in the hallway and do it."

Fitz and Simmons exchanged a glance.

" _Go_ ," May said firmly. "I'm going to sit here with Skye regardless of what you two do, and if you need to argue and blame someone for all of this, go do it in the hallway. Or the kitchen."

"She's not even conscious," Simmons said.

"Does that matter?" May pulled up a chair and sat down, opening her book.

Both scientists watched as May leaned back and started to read aloud. The older woman paid no attention to them, and after a few minutes they quietly exited the room, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Coulson entered the lounge, where Hunter and Mack were playing video games. "Good news," he greeted them.

"That'll be a first," Hunter muttered.

"I've figured out a way for us to track Lincoln."

"That is good news," Mack said. "Considering he's going to be a father in seven and a half months."

"Well, hopefully it won't take that long," Coulson said. "Where is Agent Morse?"

"Probably off making deals with the devil," Hunter said.

"You wish, _Lance_ ," Bobbi said as she limped in behind Coulson. "Turn that crap off and listen to the director."

"I would have given it a little more tact, but whatever works," Coulson said.

He and Bobbi sat down and Coulson laid a file folder on the coffee table. "We have a map here of the compound in Saskatchewan where Lincoln went to investigate an alleged gifted."

The director pointed to the file. "In there are all of the miraculous gifts the guru is supposed to have. I didn't remember that he allegedly had healing powers until I read through it again."

"I didn't, either," Bobbi said.

"Well, you were shot in the past few months," Coulson said. "Turns out that does a lot to scramble a person's powers of concentration. Interesting fact, so does axe amputation."

"I apologized," Mack groaned.

"And you will continue to do so for the foreseeable future," Coulson agreed. "Now! This 'guru'" – he hesitated. "It's really hard to do air quotes with only one hand."

Mack put his head in his hands.

"I'll do the air quotes if it'll move this along," Hunter offered.

"That's team spirit, Agent Hunter," Coulson said. "Ready?"

Hunter nodded.

"This 'guru'" – Hunter executed perfectly satisfactory air quotes – "claims to have powers of levitation, teleportation, and healing. Why he found it necessary to accumulate followers is beyond me, but alas, I am not a guru."

"People are power," Mack said. "If he's planning something big, it's in his favor to have some backers behind him."

"Yes," Coulson agreed. "But we don't know _what_ he's planning, or why he found it necessary to take control of _our_ asset."

Hunter snorted. "Really? If a man walked into a rural compound and started asking questions about the most powerful man in said compound, probably using phrases like 'I'd just like to talk to him' and 'I have an offer for him' and 'I'm not here to hurt anyone,' wouldn't _you_ immediately consider him a threat to be dealt with?"

"He didn't go in with any weapons," Bobbi said.

"And that was his first mistake," Hunter said.

"The man could electrocute all of them," Bobbi replied.

"So why didn't he?" Mack asked. "If he was in danger, why not set off some sparks?"

There was a beat of silence, and then Hunter spoke again. "You think this kid could electrocute Skye from the inside out?"

Bobbi groaned. Mack shook his head. Coulson went pale.

"Or come out shooting lightning bolts?" Hunter was obviously enjoying his train of thought.

"The plan, please, director," Bobbi said.

"As quickly as possible," Mack put in.

"Uh, yes. Yes," Coulson stuttered.

"I don't think that's how it works," Bobbi said, taking pity on the director. "Skye has completely different powers from her parents. It's extremely likely that _if_ the baby has powers" – and here she glared at Hunter – "they'll be different. And probably _not_ accessible in utero."

"Oh. Well, that's good," Hunter said.

"So, the _plan_?"

"Yes. Of course." Coulson flipped to another page in the file. "I want two agents to go in and infiltrate the group, with one agent remaining behind for surveillance and recon, or if things go haywire, to provide support and get Lincoln out."

"Sounds like a good plan," Mack said.

"We going to fight over who gets to go in?" Hunter asked.

"No," Coulson said. "I've already worked that out."

He handed Mack a smaller map of the grounds. "The past recon teams we sent in had stations set up at the points circled in red. Feel free to use those as starting points, but we're definitely going to need as much assistance as you can give us."

"Sure," Mack said, nodding. He studied the map for a moment and pointed to a few different spots. "These might be more advantageous for a single agent."

"Good thinking," Coulson said. "You're right – we had two- and three-agent teams previously; I can see why they would have chosen those spots."

"More coverage," Mack said.

Coulson turned back to Bobbi and Hunter. "Congratulations – you're now married."

Hunter choked on the very air he breathed.

Bobbi was more succinct. "I'm sorry?"

"I need two agents to infiltrate the compound," Coulson said, enjoying the look of utter horror on Hunter's face. "This guru supposedly has the power to heal, and Mr. Hunter, your wife needs to be healed."

"Healed from the honeymoon night, maybe," Hunter grunted.

Mack buried his head in his hands again.

"And Mrs. Hunter, your husband needs to be slapped upside the head," Coulson continued.

"With pleasure," Bobbi said, and leaned forward to whack Hunter on the side of his head.

"Here are your cover identities," Coulson said. "Get in, ingratiate yourself with the guru. Get 'healed' if that's a real thing. Find Lincoln. And get out."

"Sir?" Simmons was at the doorway. "May I speak to you?"

"Of course," Coulson said. To the three agents gathered in the lounge, he said, "Study the mission briefings, please. We'll go live tomorrow morning at 0800 hours."

"Which is what time?" he heard Hunter asked as he rose.

Simmons looked nervous and near tears. Coulson put his hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"It's… it's Skye," Simmons managed to get out.

"Has there been a change?" Coulson asked. He was aware of the plan from earlier to give Skye intravenous nutrients and fluids, but hadn't heard anything since then.

"There's… I don't know," Simmons said.

"Is there something you can show me?"

Simmons took a deep breath. "Evidence. Yes."

"Okay," Coulson said. "Let's start there."

She nodded and led Coulson back to the lab.

May was sitting by Skye's side, a book on her lap and her version of a worried expression on her face. Fitz was on the other side of the room, next to a machine Coulson admittedly had never seen.

The only one who didn't seem to be rattled out of their minds was Skye, who looked relaxed and nearly peaceful for the first time in days. Her breathing was slow and even, and even her casted arms looked somehow _right_.

"Anyone want to tell me why we all look like we're at a funeral?" Coulson asked.

Simmons swallowed. "All right. Okay. It's just…"

Her hands fluttered up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she reached for some paperwork on the desk behind her. "Yesterday when I tested Skye's blood, I was given results that suggested she was about six weeks pregnant."

"Okay," Coulson said, sensing there was more and feeling like he didn't want to hear it.

"And then today, when Agent May was sitting here…" Simmons trailed off.

May took up the story. "Skye was definitely uncomfortable and began curling in on herself and crying. Simmons thought it might be related to her fractures and bruises, so we started checking to see if there were any we'd neglected to treat, and…"

When she trailed off too, Coulson turned to Fitz. "You want to fill in the blanks here?"

"I don't even… I can't…" The young man put his hands up in confusion.

Simmons handed him the paperwork, showing him two different circled values. The bottom one was much higher.

"Explain," Coulson said.

"This was her test results yesterday morning," Simmons said, pointing at the top number. "Indicating six weeks. And this one…" – she indicated the bottom one – "is from about ten minutes ago."

"What are you not telling me?" Coulson asked.

May shrugged helplessly and beckoned him closer to Skye.

Coulson stepped forward, his heart pounding in his ears. May gently rolled Skye towards them and carefully pulled up Skye's shirt, exposing her stomach.

Her _belly_.

"Huh," Coulson said, trying not to express that the world had suddenly stopped making sense.

He couldn't take his eyes off the small but definitely noticeable swell of Skye's abdomen.

"The test results suggest she's about fourteen weeks along," Simmons said from behind him.

This time Coulson couldn't hold back his astonishment. "Holy _shit_."

"There are plenty of potential explanations," Simmons said as soon as May had forced Coulson into a seat. "For instance, the first test could have been incorrect."

"The _second_ test could be incorrect," Fitz put in from the corner.

"Which is why we're running it again."

"We could have missed the swelling because she's been wearing loose clothes," Fitz said.

"Or there's a possibility of some sort of secondary medical condition causing the swelling," Simmons went on. "We're going to run an ultrasound here momentarily…"

"… as soon as the machine finishes updating the software," Fitz finished, affectionately tapping the machine next to him.

"Oh, boy," Coulson breathed. "This is…"

"There's one more possible explanation," Simmons said, twisting her fingers together.

"At this point I think I'm ready to hear anything."

"The fetus has powers," Simmons said.

There was a roar in Coulson's ears, the room spun, and May was next to him in an instant, shoving his head between his knees. "Breathe," she ordered.

"This is impossible," Coulson got out, his voice muffled.

"We deal with a lot of impossible things," May reminded him.

"I know, it's just…" Coulson jerked upright. "Cal."

"What about Cal?" May asked.

"After everything that happened with Skye's mother on the SS Real SHIELD" – Coulson wished he could take credit for that but it was Hunter's brilliant idea – "Cal gave her some sort of serum to help her recover from the life-sucking Jiaying had attempted. Apparently they had something like that at Afterlife."

Now Simmons used Coulson's phrase. "Oh."

"That might explain it," Fitz said.

"And we have no idea what he put in it, because _he_ has no idea what he put in it," May said, her face darkening, "because we sent him through TAHITI."

"It's a magical place," Coulson said before he could stop himself.

"Oh," Fitz and Simmons said at the same time.

* * *

Skye blinked, coming back to the world gradually. She felt… _better_. Her arms and chest still ached, and nausea was still sloshing around in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't feel weak or breathless or exhausted.

"Take it easy," May said from somewhere behind her. "You've been out for quite awhile."

Skye pushed herself upright. She felt heavier.

"Simmons gave you IV fluids and food," May continued, coming to sit next to Skye. "And she's been working around the clock on something else, so you can thank her later."

Her SO looked worried, and Skye immediately put her hand to her belly. "What's…?"

Her palm met a noticeably rounded abdomen, and the roar in her ears returned.

"Skye, listen to me," May said. "I will explain everything, but we can't ICE you anymore, so I need you to _breathe_."

"What… the hell… _happened?"_ Skye bit out. She could feel her arms starting to quake and she forced it down. _Control. Control it._

May sat down in front of her and put her hands on Skye's knees. "Do you remember what happened during the incident with your mother on the boat?"

"Of course I do," Skye snapped.

"Do you remember going unconscious after that?"

"I remember waking up with you over me looking extremely nervous," Skye answered.

"Okay. Well, while you were unconscious, your father… Cal… gave you something. A regenerative serum that apparently worked whenever Jiaying tried to suck the life out of someone at Afterlife. It… well, it brought them back, for lack of a better term."

"Oh, no," Skye whispered.

"The effects are time-limited," May said, "according to Coulson's memories of the conversation he had with Cal shortly before TAHITI. So we think this is a one-time thing."

Skye shook her head fiercely. "No, no, _no…"_

"Breathe," May said, pressing down firmly on Skye's knees. "So instead of being six weeks pregnant, you're now…"

She took a deep breath herself. "Fourteen."

"Oh, _God_." Skye buried her head in her hands.

"It's a hard thing to hear once you've woken up from… all this," May agreed, "but this doesn't change anything. We're still here to support you, and Simmons has been working on a drug that should negate any further effects of the serum to prevent an eight-week jump like this from happening _ever_ again."

Skye looked up at May, panic on her face.

May recognized the look instantly and grabbed the trash can.

Skye leaned over it, vomiting.

It took a few minutes for the nausea to fade, and Skye brought her head back up, exhausted and heavy. "I need… I need to…"

"To sleep," May said. "And we'll continue with the fluids and nutrients."

"I can't… what's…?" Skye went a strange gray color.

May bolted to her feet, shoved the trash can to the floor, and swiftly helped Skye back into a lying position. "It's okay. One step at a time. You haven't quaked since you woke up, and that's… that's very good. It's a start."

Skye took in a shuddery breath. "I don't understand any of this."

"No one else does either," May said, "so we're all on the same page."

"Okay," Skye mumbled.

"Just go to sleep, and we'll try to have some answers when you wake up."

"Okay," Skye repeated, and she leaned into May's touch as she closed her eyes.

* * *

"Mission timetable just got moved up," Coulson informed Mack, Hunter, and Bobbi, who were still debating tactics and drawing maps in the lounge.

"What? Why?" Mack asked.

"We were still planning on having some more time to prep," Bobbi agreed.

"In two days Skye went from six weeks pregnant to fourteen weeks pregnant," Coulson said.

The other three agents exchanged glances.

Bobbi was the first to speak. "We'll be ready in twenty minutes."


	6. Tremors

**A/N:** To be perfectly horrible to other readers, I wrote a new chapter for this instead of a new chapter for "now hear this." I love my stories. (Is that okay to say?) And I _definitely_ love my readers.

There was going to be more to this, but I need to stop watching "2 Broke Girls" and "You Deserve a Drink" and go to bed. So, more next time!

"Govenlock" is an actual place in Saskatchewan, and the data I used says it has "0" residents. What better place for a cult?

And, _God_ I love writing snarky!Hunter.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites. Getting those update emails makes me so happy. I do a happy little dance every time I see one!

Enjoy!

* * *

The lab was empty and quiet when Skye woke. She still felt heavy and disoriented. Without her permission her hand snaked down to her stomach. Her _belly_.

Somewhere under the bruises, a baby was growing. _Had_ grown. More than doubled its age over the last two days. It was a weird concept.

She let her hand rest over her abdomen, letting the feeling of its weight slow her heart rate. If she thought about anything else she knew she'd completely lose control again. Her casted arms and the bruises dappling her stomach were more than proof positive of that.

"I brought you something to eat." Simmons' voice was calm, and Skye looked up to see her best friend moving towards her carefully, carrying a tray.

"Oh," Skye said. "Thanks."

She sat up cautiously, hand still on her belly. She realized Simmons was wearing pajamas instead of her lab coat. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after midnight," Simmons answered, setting the tray on the bed next to Skye.

"I was out for a long time." Skye shook her head.

"You went through some extreme changes today," Simmons said. "We all knew you needed to sleep."

Skye looked down at the tray. It held a plate with two pieces of dry toast, a glass filled with a golden bubbly liquid that seemed to be ginger ale, a cloth napkin, and a small vase with a carnation in it.

She looked up at Simmons, confused.

"Well, that was Fitz's idea," Simmons said, blushing. "He said, and I quote, 'Just because she's been vomiting near-constantly doesn't mean she shouldn't have something that looks nice.' And then he went back to video games."

"It's wonderful. Thank you," Skye said softly.

She picked up a piece of toast and broke it in half, carefully bringing it up to her mouth. Then she hesitated. "May said you were going to run some tests. Did you…?"

"As far as we can tell, there was no damage done to the fetus," Simmons said. "We were able to hear a steady heartbeat."

"She has a heartbeat?" Tears flooded Skye's eyes.

Simmons nodded. "How do you know it's a girl?"

"I don't…" Skye put her hand back to her stomach. "Just… a guess."

"It's either one or the other," Simmons said, obviously trying to make light of the situation.

Skye smiled as she took a bite of toast. "Mmm… dry toast. If you'd brought it to me with a bowl of oatmeal, I'd have orphanage flashbacks."

She chewed the toast slowly, trying not to upset the delicate balance her stomach had fought out with the nausea.

"You know that's never going to happen to… _her_ , right?" Simmons asked, indicating Skye's belly with a nod of her head. "We're _never_ going to let anything happen to her. She stays here."

Skye nodded.

"Good," Simmons said. "Just wanted to make sure that was clear."

Skye managed to get through both pieces of toast and half the glass of ginger ale. Simmons passed the time by telling her amusing stories about Fitz and their Academy days, some of which Skye hadn't heard previously.

"I feel like I missed so much," Skye said.

"You were only asleep for a few hours."

"No, not that," Skye said, shaking her head. "Six weeks to fourteen weeks… I thought I'd have time to figure all this out. To be more prepared. To…"

She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

"We'll figure it out," Simmons said. "I'm nearly finished with an antidote to the serum. It should stop whatever caused the baby's growth spurt."

The scientist paused. "And I know this is probably the _last_ thing you want to hear at this moment, but if Cal… your father… hadn't given the serum to you, you would likely have died."

A wave of nausea swept over Skye and she swallowed, hard.

"Your mother's gift caused a drop in blood pressure and an increased heart rate," Simmons went on. "It was literally a matter of minutes before your heart stopped, and we were on a boat in the middle of nowhere, so… he saved you, Skye."

Skye looked away from Simmons, and then bowed her head.

"It's all right to cry," Simmons said. "Your hormones are as confused by this as you are."

She slid off the chair and moved to sit next to Skye, hugging the girl to her. Skye sobbed, her shoulders shaking, and then relaxed, the sobs slowing and her breathing evening out.

"I promise we'll figure it out," Simmons said.

"I'm tired, and nauseous, and everything hurts, and…" Skye trailed off. "This is probably the worst I've _ever_ felt, except for when I got shot."

Simmons tensed a bit at the memory of _that_ unfortunate series of events. "I have a feeling that your first-trimester symptoms are being mashed up with your second-trimester symptoms."

Skye pulled back from Simmons. "And just what does _that_ mean, Dr. Simmons?"

Some of Skye's trademark snark was back in that statement, and Simmons could only smile. "You may experience all or any of the following: morning sickness, exhaustion, frequent visits to the loo, headaches, breathlessness, hormone-related mood swings, food cravings, aches and pains, nightmares, and…"

Here she hesitated. Skye's grin only grew bigger.

"Changes in your…" Simmons shook her head, and then whispered, " _Bosom_."

Skye started laughing. "Did you just say _bosom?"_

Simmons went bright red. "I just… it's a word!"

"Right, but it's generally used by old ladies," Skye said.

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"We have to teach you some new slang," Skye said. "And also, did you skip the day where they taught you how to give bad news to someone?"

"My first internship was with the bacterial weapons research faculty!" Simmons protested. "Bacteria don't care if you give them bad news, because _they're bacteria."_

"Okay," Skye said. "Well, step one – try to package things in an attractive way. For instance, I once lived in an apartment where there were mice. But instead of _saying_ that there were mice, the landlord told me that the apartment was close to a bounty of local fauna."

"Ohh, that does sound better," Simmons said, nodding.

"It's not that hard," Skye said. "You should try it sometime."

Simmons thought about this. "Ah! I've got one."

"This should be good," Skye muttered into her ginger ale.

"I could tell Director Coulson that a hand amputation is not a terrible condition – he cut his chances of getting carpal tunnel syndrome in half!"

Simmons looked pleased at that.

Skye shook her head. "No."

"Oh, come on! I gave it my best shot!"

"Well, don't tell him that. Or if you do, please promise me I can be in the room."

Simmons shrugged. "Sounds fair."

* * *

"Remind me why I hate undercover missions," Hunter said.

"You quote different reasons every time," Bobbi said.

Hunter was driving a battered RV towards the compound where the "Govenlock Guru" (named, of course, for the Saskatchewan town closest to the commune) had set up shop. "Okay, remind me _this_ time."

"I'm guessing it has something to do with the clothing," Bobbi said.

"That'd be a good guess."

"Or your American accent."

"A second fine guess."

"Or the fact that we have to infiltrate a potentially lethal cult that counts among its members not one, but _two_ gifteds," Bobbi said, "and I'm about as much help as wet firewood at a campfire."

"That sounds good too," Hunter said.

"You look good in plaid," Bobbi offered.

Hunter's face softened. "Thanks. And you look good in… whatever the hell that is."

Bobbi looked down at the prairie dress she had on. "We're supposed to be nutjobs," she said. "Religious fanatics."

"A bummer it's in Canada and not India," Hunter mused. " _Their_ religious fanatics get to wear prettier clothes. And _none_ of them are plaid."

Bobbi rolled her eyes.

Apparently she wasn't alone in her thoughts, for shortly thereafter they both heard Mack's voice through the coms: " _You guys know I'm on a black ATV in the back woods of Saskatchewan wearing full tactical gear, all black, and hauling about a hundred and fifty pounds of gear in black bags? If I put any more black on this rig I'll become a full-on black hole."_

Bobbi whipped her head around. "Hunter, do _not_ …"

The (undoubtedly incredibly rude) joke that had been on Hunter's lips died. Instead he said, "Mrs. Hunter, you should be nicer to your husband."

"I'm not sure who _Mrs. Hunter_ is," Bobbi answered. "I'm Barbara Torrance, happily married to Leonard Torrance."

" _Leonard_ ," Hunter snorted. "Next time we go undercover, _I'm_ picking the names."

" _Don't tell Coulson_ ," Mack suggested from the coms. " _He'll probably find out that we were in Argentina your undercover name for Agent Kim was 'Ching Chong.'"_

"Which was not only geographically and ethnically wrong but _increasingly_ racially insensitive," Bobbi put in.

"That was _his_ idea!" Hunter protested.

" _Or the time your undercover alias for Agent Sachs was Anna Conda?"_

"'Cause she don't want none," Hunter said.

"She didn't want any from _you_ ," Bobbi said. "She was more than happy to receive things from her wife."

Hunter groaned.

"Mack, you'd better stop telling stories about Hunter's terrible undercover aliases," Bobbi suggested. "He looks like he's going to forget he's supposed to be an American."

There was a brief silence from the other end of the coms. Then Mack spoke again. " _Fine, but here are a few of my favorites – no need for any backstory or discussion. B.A. Ware. Rita Booke. And the incomparable Minnie van Gogh."_

"Oh, that last one was my favorite," Bobbi said with a grin.

" _Going radio silent until I'm in position. Good luck_ ," Mack said.

"Wish he'd gone radio silent twenty minutes ago," Hunter grumbled.

The sun set as they made their way up a dirt road towards a half-circle of buildings surrounded by a fence. A sign to the side of the road proclaimed the area to be the "Govenlock Good Fellowship Commune," and the legend below informed visitors that "Our Guru is the Guru who is the Guru and who shall always be the Guru."

A smaller piece of wood tacked on an angle below read simply: "The Guru has fallen. Long live the Guru." The letters were slapdash slashes in bright red.

Upon reading that Bobbi's stomach twisted into knots. "Mr. Torrance?"

"I saw it," Hunter said. "Think we were on the right track when we suggested they'd brainwashed our Sparky?"

"I don't know what to think," Bobbi answered. "Except that I think this simple search-and-retrieve mission just got a lot harder."

* * *

May walked into the kitchen to find Skye standing in front of the fridge. A tote bag was slung over the young woman's shoulder, one that May recognized as Fitz's (the monkey in a Scottish tam was a dead giveaway) and judging from the small tubes running out of the bag and down under Skye's shirt, presumably down her pant leg to the cannula in her foot, Simmons had been kind enough to make Skye's fluids and nutrition portable.

But there was something oddly pinched in Skye's posture, and May realized she was leaning against the refrigerator, hunched in on herself.

"Skye?"

There was no response, and the noises May had been attributing to the fridge (which a Koenig needed to take a look at some time soon) clearly became Skye's ragged breathing.

May stepped forward. "Skye," she said, a little more gently. "What's going on?"

"I can't…" Skye gulped in air. "My chest… hurts."

May pulled Skye upright and carefully walked her over to a chair, forcing the young woman into it. Skye's face was pinched and her mouth gaped open in a frantic attempt to get more air in. The triangle of skin at the base of her throat retracted hard on each breath, becoming little more than a hollow of shadows.

It wasn't a good sign.

May carefully took Skye's wrist and clicked the button to turn on the monitoring device. Skye's pulse flashed up in clear digital numbers – 120.

"Skye, you need to breathe," May said, before she realized how stupid of a statement that was.

Skye obviously realized the same thing. She rolled her eyes at May. "I'm… _trying_ ," she wheezed.

A noise from the other side of the kitchen caught May's attention, and she turned, seeing a coffee mug start to wobble.

"Skye," she said, a knot of nerves suddenly taking up far too much space in her stomach, "are you trying to keep a quake in?"

"I can't… tell."

"Okay," May said. "I'm going to get Simmons."

" _No!"_ Skye managed to squawk.

"Skye, this is wrong. Something's wrong, and I'm not going to let you put yourself in danger like this."

"She'll just… think I'm… weak," Skye panted.

May's gaze went back to the monitor. 145.

"No one thinks you're weak," May said. "We're concerned about you. We want you to stay healthy."

 _And alive_ , her traitorous brain thought.

Skye tried to answer, but a spasm jerked through her body. Her arms jerked up and she gasped as a wave of power left her, knocking two cooking pots from the rack above the oven. They clattered to the floor, sounding like bereft cymbals.

"Skye, if you have to let it out, let it out," May said.

"No," Skye whimpered. "It'll…"

She choked and gripped the table as well as she could with the casts on her arms. The paperwork and forgotten glasses began to sing a chattering, tinkling song.

"If we have to ICE you, then we'll…"

" _No_ ," Skye protested weakly. "It'll hurt her."

"It's going to hurt you more to keep it in. Let it out if you have to," May said, noticing how labored Skye's breathing had become.

The table was jumping off the ground, an inch or so at a time.

May sprinted to the hallway. "Simmons! Oxygen! _Now!"_

She bolted back. Skye's lips were blue and her entire body was caught up in tremors.

"Skye, let it…"

The quake roared through the room. Windows shattered, glasses and cooking implements tumbled to the floor, the table flipped. A chair whipped towards May, and that was the last thing she knew for some time.


	7. On Edge

**A/N:** Here's the part where I tell you that I don't know where this is going, and here's the part where I'd love to hear ANY of your ideas for future plot twists.

Here's the part where I say this should have been longer, but I have to go to work early (true story).

Here's the part where this should be wittier. File a complaint with the proper authorities.

Here's the part where I thank everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows. You're the best!

Here's the part where I tell you to enjoy. So, enjoy!

* * *

Skye moaned. Her head pounded with every beat of her heart, and all she could feel was pain. She blinked, the world coming back to her in little blurry skips.

"Easy." She could hear Coulson's voice. "Don't try to move too much."

"I'm sorry," Skye whispered. Her lips felt cracked and her mouth was hot.

"Simmons says I can give you a drink of water," Coulson said. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"Yes," she said hoarsely. She closed her eyes; the light hurt too much.

After a beat she felt the end of a straw approach her mouth. She took a drink of the very cold water and it seemed to be the only thing she'd ever wanted.

"Thank you," Skye said to Coulson.

"You're welcome," he said gently.

"Where'm I?"

"You're in the Vault."

"Shouldn't be… could take down… walls."

"The _new_ Vault. Reinforced walls. Let's just say it took the place of the Cage on the Bus."

Skye didn't know that was even a thing.

"Everyone is okay," Coulson went on. "May has a wicked black eye and a cut on her forehead, but…"

Skye cut him off. "I hurt… I hurt… _May?"_

"Yes," Coulson said carefully.

She blinked again and the world swam into view. Panic coursed through her like fire in her veins as she considered who else she might have hurt. "And…"

Skye felt the director take her hand, and he moved it to her belly. She had never been so glad to feel the small swell and some small part of her relaxed as she pressed her palm flat against it. "Oh," she said.

"We're all still here," Coulson said. "And we're going to figure this out."

"Hmmm," Skye said. She was suddenly tired.

"Sleep for a bit," Coulson suggested. "I'll be back to check on you."

Her arms and legs felt like lead. "You drugged me," she said.

"A little," he replied. "Until we can make sure you're safe."

Skye found that it didn't matter so much. She was actually looking forward to the blank unconsciousness of sleep.

Coulson watched as she blinked a few more times, each time looking more and more groggy, and then at last her eyes stayed closed and her body relaxed.

He squeezed her hand one more time, noting that her other hand remained firmly planted on her belly, and stood, leaving the Vault.

* * *

"How close are we to getting a handle on this?" Coulson asked as he entered the lab.

"The antidote to the serum is finished," Simmons said. "I'll run it through with the next round of her fluids and nutrients."

"But we have no idea why Skye's powers are out of control," Fitz continued.

"It's possible that the changes in her hormones are exacerbating the unstable nature we saw before Skye went to Afterlife." Simmons picked up the thread of the conversation.

"So we're thinking we need to dampen her powers," Fitz said.

"Just temporarily."

"Until the hormone surge levels off."

It was like a verbal tennis match, and though the topic was extremely heavy, Coulson liked it anyway. FitzSimmons hadn't been FitzSimmons for a long time, and the look on Fitz's face when he said "hormone" was like a free gift.

"That sounds terrible, if potentially possible," Coulson said.

The two scientists exchanged a look.

"I feel there's something you're not telling me," the director went on.

"We'll have to put the inhibitors back on," Simmons said slowly.

"I think that's warranted." Coulson looked at Fitz.

"Last time Skye had the inhibitors on for merely _minutes_ , and she experienced dizziness and nausea," Simmons said. "Added to her symptoms now, I don't know if that's the smartest idea."

"We can treat nausea, correct?"

Simmons nodded.

"Okay. Then put them back on and medicate her for nausea and other discomfort," Coulson said. "She's too tired to be up and around right now, and I think she's more upset about potentially hurting anyone else than she is about being a little more nauseous. Give her time to rest and we'll figure out the rest of it from there."

He turned to go.

Fitz called after him. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Have you heard anything from Mack and Bobbi? You know, about Lincoln?"

"No," Coulson said, shaking his head. "Not even a message to let us know they're in. But I'll be continuing to monitor coms until we hear something."

"Okay," Fitz said. "Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Fitz?"

"Would it be all right… um… if I went and sat… with her? Uh… after Simmons puts the gloves on, I mean?"

Coulson gave the young man a smile. "I think she'd like that."

* * *

May was sitting in his office when he returned, holding an ice pack over her left eye. He could hear a familiar voice ringing up from the speakerphone.

"You've got to stop calling me like this, Melinda," Andrew Garner said, though Coulson heard a smile in that statement.

"She needs help," May said firmly. "And you're one of the few ones she trusts."

"I can't imagine what she's going through," Andrew said. "And as far as I can tell, there's never been anything on record of a powered person going through pregnancy."

"It happened at least once," May said dryly. "It's how Skye got here."

Coulson closed the door behind him and sat down on the couch.

"Right, but her mother was most definitely somewhere else during all that and nowhere near being evaluated by me." Andrew sighed. "I'll do some research and see what I can come up with."

May made a noncommittal noise with her mouth.

"Melinda?" Andrew said, his voice a little gentler.

"Hmm?"

"No matter what's happening to her, she's still Skye. She's still a terrified young person and I don't think there's much we can do to change that."

"She whipped a chair at me."

"I bet she'd tell you that was _not_ what she wanted."

"It was my fault," May whispered.

"What?"

Coulson hadn't heard _that_ part of the story.

"I told her to let the quake out," May went on, her voice choked. "She was trying to hold it back and it was hurting her and she couldn't breathe and I _told_ her to let it out, that we'd ICE her if it got bad, and…"

She shook her head, hard, and removed the ice pack, placing it on the desk in front of her.

"Melinda, this is not your fault," Andrew said.

"It might as well be."

Andrew paused. "All right. Well, I'll be there tomorrow morning. Just try to avoid chairs. Maybe sit on the floor… like the Japanese do."

"Wrong type of Asian," May said, but a small smile twitched the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, don't take it from me," Andrew said. "All my Asian information gets forced upon me by Madame Woo at the sushi place."

"We'll talk about what's wrong with that statement when you get here," May said.

"Promise?"

"Oh, go away," May said, now smiling.

"I'll see you tomorrow. And you as well, Phil."

"See you then," Coulson said.

May hung up and looked over at him.

"Were you going to tell me that you felt responsible for what happened?" Coulson asked her.

"No," she replied shortly.

"So you were going to sublimate it all?"

"Probably."

"But you'd tell Andrew?"

May rolled her eyes.

"It's all right," Coulson said, "but you know this wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't _her_ fault, either," May retorted.

"No," Coulson allowed. "I don't think she's in control of a whole lot right now."

He rubbed his forehead. "Did _you_ know she was… you know… with Lincoln?"

"Doing the frickle-frackle? No." May shook her head.

Coulson went bright red. "Where did you get _that_ expression?"

"I don't know." She put the ice pack back on her eye. "And I didn't know about Lincoln. I'm just hoping our three amigos will be able to pull him safely out of that cult, or it's going to be a very long pregnancy. For _all_ of us."

* * *

Fitz waited until Simmons finished securing the inhibitors over Skye's arms, then sat down next to the bed.

"Fitz," Simmons said. "You don't have to stay."

"I'm not staying for _her_ ," Fitz said. "I'm going to read."

Simmons frowned at him.

"Also, do you really think she should wake up alone?"

Simmons sighed. "I guess not."

"Then I'll stay."

"And you'll call me… if there's any change?"

"Of course I will."

"All right."

"Simmons?"

"Hmmm?"

"We're going to figure this out."

"I know. It's just… she doesn't deserve any of this. She deserves something simple – she deserves to be happy."

"Then we'll figure it out, and she will be," Fitz said. "And, besides…"

He gestured to Skye's sleeping form on the bed. Though Simmons had moved both of her arms, they'd come back, nearly immediately, to her belly.

"She thinks it's a girl," Simmons said, her voice a bit wobbly.

"A girl would be fun," Fitz said. "Little peanut of a thing with Skye's attitude and pigtails…"

"You'd spoil her rotten."

"Somebody'd have to," Fitz answered. "And you could teach her about safety procedures in the lab, and…"

"Fitz." Simmons laughed. "I have other skills, you know."

"And you could read her all those stories you have," Fitz said. "The ones in the leather-bound books that are under your bed."

"I forgot about those," Simmons said. "That'd be lovely, Fitz."

She kissed him on the top of his head. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes."

The vibranium-walled Vault was quiet after she left, and Fitz turned his attention to the worn paperback book in his hands. "All right," he said, his voice suddenly very loud. "This is my favorite book. Well, not my favorite book, but it was when I was a little wee 'un, and I'm going to read it to you. Simmons says you can hear us already, so this is your Uncle Fitz reading _Goodnight Moon_."

He shifted his position on the chair and leaned forward. " _In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon. And a picture of the cow jumping over the moon. And there were three little bears sitting on chairs…"_

* * *

The RV rattled to a stop outside a large yurt. The sun was nearly completely below the horizon, and Hunter took a deep breath as he turned to Bobbi. "Play up yer limp, yeah?"

"Play up your American accent, _darling_ ," Bobbi replied.

"Sorry. I forgot," Hunter said. He took a moment to get further into character – he was now mild-mannered super-religious accountant Leonard Torrance. Boring, bland. Enjoyed oatmeal, golf, praying, plaid clothing.

Bobbi wobbled forwards and peered through the window of the RV. "I don't see anyone," she said.

"They're all inside doing their rama-lama-ding-dongs," Hunter muttered.

"Mack, anything going on at your end?" Bobbi asked.

It took a beat, but then Mack's voice filtered through the coms. "Got the small drones overhead and should have some more information shortly. I'm in position near the perimeter fence and I can see two men patrolling. Remember how we didn't see any weapons?"

"Mm-hmm," Bobbi said slowly.

"They've got rifles."

"Damn," Hunter whistled.

"Approach with caution," Mack said. "I'll report in as I can."

The flaps of the yurt parted, and a man and a woman exited the large tent. They moved slowly towards the RV. Both wore simple white robes and flower crowns.

"Well, they look happy," Hunter said.

"Why wouldn't they?" Bobbi mused. "They've got a guru and a reason for living and I'm pretty sure they're brainwashed."

"You ready for this?"

"Yeah. Just don't drink any Kool-Aid."

Hunter opened the RV door and stepped out first, offering his hand to Bobbi. She leaned on it heavily, taking slow and deliberate steps down to the ground.

The man called out to them as Bobbi's foot touched the grass. "Good evening!"

"Good evening," Hunter said, keeping his voice carefully modulated.

"Welcome to the Govenlock Good Fellowship Commune," the man went on. "I am Oak Strong-Leaf, and this is Amethyst Rain-Storm. Are you in need of fellowship this evening?"

Hunter looked at Bobbi. "We have traveled from our home to ask assistance from your guru."

"He is _everyone's_ guru," the woman said.

"Ah. Then, _the_ guru," Hunter corrected himself. "My wife was injured in a tragic accident and the doctors say there is no other treatment that will help her."

"We heard that your guru has the gift of healing," Bobbi said. "We were hoping…"

She cast her eyes down at her feet.

"You seek an audience with the guru," Oak said. "Please, come with us. We will show you a place to rest and to receive sustenance. Then you may join us at our star-light ceremony."

He led Hunter in one direction and Amethyst began leading Bobbi in another.

Bobbi turned back to look at Hunter. _Find him_ , she signed, using brief, quick hand movements and hoping Hunter hadn't forgotten the sign language they'd used on missions before.

He nodded, quick as a flash, and then they allowed their guests to take them into their new, guru-heavy future.

* * *

"Sir."

"Mack? Thank God," Coulson said.

"Well, don't waste your prayers yet," Mack said. "Bobbi and Hunter are inside the compound. I've got eyes almost up and running, but the entire situation has changed – these folks are _armed_."

"Heavily?"

"Yeah."

Coulson let out a groan. "Anything going to plan?"

"So far nobody's fired," Mack said.

"We have to work on your good-news skills," Coulson said.

"And from what I can hear through the coms, they're eating some sort of cake and watching the stars."

"That's slightly better. Have they seen Lincoln?"

"Not yet," Mack replied. "But everyone's getting amped up for an audience with the guru, and both Hunter and Bobbi think that's Lincoln now. Something about the other guru getting unseated and deposed."

May let out a laugh. "Lincoln is their guru?"

"That's Hunter's theory," Mack said. "And if we consider that he's probably the only one there with actual powers, it makes sense."

"Okay," Coulson said. "Keep an eye on them. Let us know if there's any change."

"You got it."

"And Mack? Don't drink any Kool-Aid. We need _someone_ out there with their wits about them."

* * *

"… _goodnight nobody. Goodnight mush. And goodnight to the old lady whispering hush. Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Good night noises everywhere."_


	8. Oscillation

**A/N:** This chapter would have been to you a couple of hours ago but I fell down a tumblr hole of anti-Grant-Ward stuff and I was apparently very happy with that all.

I don't know how to make anyone in this story happy. Yet. I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites! I swear I'm still working on answering reviews and messages... just not as quickly as I'd like. A lot of stuff going on in my world right now and I'm figuring out how to handle all of it. (Sometimes with grace... sometimes with rage.)

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye woke with a start. Pain rippled through her abdomen, taking her breath away.

"Fitz," she tried to gasp, seeing her friend sitting next to her bed, asleep upright in a chair, holding a copy of _Goodnight Moon_. "Fff…"

A hot knife of pain sliced across her belly and she tried curling in around it. "Fitz," she wheezed.

He finally jerked upright. "What? What's going on?"

"Feels… like before," Skye managed to get out. "Oh, _God."_

"Before, like when… when…"

Skye nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain.

"Oh. Oh, no, no," Fitz said, and he leapt up from the chair. "Simmons. Have to call Simmons."

"Fitz, _ohhh_." Skye looked down at her stomach; she heard bones and joints cracking and felt muscles twisting and tearing. She screamed as her belly swelled out further. "No, _no!"_

Fitz had his phone out and she heard him trying to get words out to explain the situation. "Simmons… not good… come… _now!"_

"Fitz," Skye panted. She wasn't sure how many weeks she'd just grown, but besides all the pain, she now felt something different. She hesitantly placed her hand on her abdomen and confirmed what she'd been thinking. "She's… _moving_."

"What?!" Fitz looked like he was going to vomit.

Skye knew the feeling.

The door to the Vault room burst open and May and Coulson ran in, Simmons right behind them.

"What's… oh, no," Coulson said, staring aghast at Skye.

"Fix it," she whimpered.

"I thought you said the antidote would work," Coulson said to Simmons.

"I can feel her _moving_ ," Skye moaned.

Simmons knelt down next to the bed and Skye had to try very hard not to whack Simmons with her casts. She wanted answers. She wanted to _not_ feel this way. She wanted to go back to how things were _four_ _days ago_ , back when she was merely six weeks pregnant.

 _Only four days. Shit._

Skye started to cry.

"Oh, sweetheart," May said, speaking for the first time since she'd entered the room, and she sat down next to Skye, wrapping her arms around the sobbing girl.

"Let's give them some time," Coulson suggested to Fitz and Simmons.

"Sir, she needs an examination and…"

Fitz cut Simmons off. "Let's go get Skye something to drink."

Simmons pursed her lips as though she wanted to say something else, but a quick glance at Coulson earned her nothing but a steady gaze. The scientist sighed and followed Fitz and Coulson out of the room.

"I can't," Skye sobbed into May's shoulder. "I can't do this."

"Shhh," May said, and she rubbed Skye's back.

"I woke up and got fifteen pounds heavier, and there's a _thing_ moving inside me and I don't know who she is and _most_ people get time to prepare for stuff like this and it's been _four days_ and I can't…"

Skye could feel the bed starting to shake.

"Deep breath," May said.

The chair next to the bed wobbled back and forth.

"Skye," May said gently. "Breathe. Listen to my voice, okay?"

Skye squeezed her eyes shut. All she felt was rage. Anger at her father, for giving her the serum. Anger at her mother, for nearly killing her. Anger at Lincoln for not coming back from Saskatchewan. Anger that she couldn't do more to protect the fetus madly waving its hands in her belly. Anger that she was so useless, and powerless, and stupid, and –

Pain radiated across her face, and she stopped those cyclic, angry thoughts.

May was looking at her calmly.

"You… _hit_ me," Skye managed to get out.

May nodded.

"Wh… _why?"_

"Because you were hysterical," May replied, "and I've already been hit in the face with a chair once today. And also, the bed rocking was making me seasick."

"Oh. Oh, I'm _so_ sorry."

"I know none of this makes sense right now," May said. "And we'll figure it out, I promise, one way or another, even if we have to take things one minute at a time."

She took a deep breath, and looked at Skye, prompting her to do the same. They breathed together, slowly and deeply, until Skye felt her system start to settle.

"Okay?"

"Okay," Skye answered. "Um, but May…?"

"Hmm?"

"I need some other clothes," Skye said.

May looked down at Skye's once-loose workout clothing. The shirt rode up over her swollen abdomen, and her pants' waistband now only reached her hipbones.

"You're all belly," May said.

"Hey!"

"It's not a bad thing," May said with a grin. "We'll find you something."

"Okay," Skye said. She hesitated, then looked back at May. "Um, and thanks for being here for all this."

"Where else would I be?" May replied simply.

* * *

"Mack, I need a favor."

"Sure thing, Agent May. Lay it on me," Mack said.

"I need to borrow some of your clothes."

There was silence from the other end of the line.

"Mack? Is something going on with Bobbi and Hunter?"

"Uh, well, everyone is still looking at the stars and eating cake," Mack said, "but my pause was more related to why you want my clothing, since that's way more freaky than anything happening with this Canadian cult."

May had to smile at that. "Skye had a… uh… another growth spurt."

"Damn." Mack whistled. "She okay?"

May liked the caring side of Mack, and she was pleased that it came through despite the serious situation he was dealing with. "She's… confused, of course, and in some pain, but right now she has more pressing needs. Like, clothing. And more ice cream."

"Can't do anything about the ice cream," Mack said, "although all this talk about cake is making me wish I had something better than granola bars in my pack. As for the clothes, go right ahead. I think I've got some clean stuff in the laundry basket."

"You're a peach," May said.

"And that's an expression I've never heard you use," Mack said. He sounded like he was going to laugh.

"It's a brave new world, Mack," May said. "Thanks, Mack. Keep us updated on the Canadian crew of crazy cultists."

"Will do."

* * *

Skye leaned back in a kitchen chair. Simmons had finally finished with her blood tests, and had said something about an ultrasound, but Skye had shoved herself out of the lab and walked as fast as she could to the kitchen. Her back ached and her ankles ached and her casts were pinching her arms, but her most pressing need (other than clothes that fit) was food. She was starving.

May found her with her feet up on another chair, spoon-deep in salted caramel ice cream. "Is that good?"

"It's _obscenely_ good," Skye answered, her mouth full of ice cream.

May set down a small pile of folded clothes. "I talked to Mack, and he gave me the go-ahead to borrow some of his clothes."

Skye choked on the mouthful of ice cream. "Clothes from _Mack?"_

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"He's huge!"

"Oh, darling," May said. "Obviously you wouldn't be wearing them as they are. We'll have to pin them up for now and we can get you something better tomorrow."

"I'd rather just stay in what I've got on," Skye said.

She winced and shifted in the chair.

"You okay?"

"Whoever she is, she moves an awful lot," Skye answered. "And there is that whole thing where, according to Simmons, in four days I did fourteen weeks of work."

Again she winced. "Okay, okay, I get it."

Skye took her feet down from the chair in front of her and leaned over. "Ugghh…"

"Breathe," May said.

"I'm okay," Skye muttered. "Just… tired."

May gently pulled Skye upright by her shoulders. "Maybe it's time for bed."

"I just woke up!" Skye protested.

"But in four days you did fourteen weeks of work," May pointed out.

"And there's still ice cream!"

"We'll put it back in the freezer," May said. "Come on, let's get you two in bed."

They walked down the hallway, Skye shuffling next to May, her head resting somewhat on the older woman's shoulder.

"May?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you still going to mother me like this when the baby's here?"

* * *

Mack realized something had gone wrong when the glowing tent somewhat off in the distance went silent. Since previously it had been full of laughter and chatter, mostly about the stars and somewhat about the cake, the fact that it fell quiet almost in one fell swoop was alarming.

He turned the control pad for the miniature drones on, searching for the feed that would give him the most information. What he saw shocked him.

All of the cultists were sprawled on the grass beneath the tent, looking as though a wave of knockout gas had spread amongst them. And there was still no sign of Lincoln or any guru.

"Shit," Mack muttered.

He flicked off the control pad and slipped on his night-vision goggles. It was time to storm the compound and get some answers.

* * *

"I don't understand why it didn't work," Simmons complained to Fitz. "I had everything right!"

"We don't know enough about Inhuman… uh…."

"Biology," Simmons supplied.

"Right. We don't know what was in the serum. And I'm pretty sure that no one would have predicted what just happened."

"Her blood tests suggest she's twenty weeks pregnant, Fitz. _Twenty weeks._ It's impossible!"

"It's Inhuman," Fitz said, and he shrugged.

"That can't be your answer for everything."

"Until we know more, it's really the only answer," Fitz said. "Do you want dinner?"

"No. I want answers."

"Well, me too," Fitz said, "but something tells me we're not getting them today. So, dinner?"

" _No_ , Fitz," Simmons snapped.

"Okay," Fitz said quietly, and he turned and walked away.

Coulson caught up with him in the hallway. "How's Simmons?"

"Understandably upset," Fitz said. "She thought the antidote would work."

"And instead it had the opposite effect."

"She wants to help but it seems like everything she does doesn't work," Fitz said.

"And you?"

"I just want Skye to be safe. And happy," Fitz answered.

"Me too, Fitz," Coulson said. "Me too."

* * *

Skye sighed. She was lying in bed, but everything that had ached standing up was still aching. And she had to pee. Again. But she was so extremely tired…

"Why is everything so hard?" she muttered.

As if in answer, a kick radiated up against the palm she had pressed to her belly.

"Sorry," Skye said automatically. "I'm not talking about you. I'm pretty sure I like you."

She winced. Simmons had mentioned something about ligaments stretching and causing her pain, and then something about her hip joints… and that was where Skye had tuned out. She didn't need to know _why_ she was feeling pain, she just wanted it dealt with.

"Okay, I'm sure I like you," Skye went on, rubbing her back to try to deal with the pain. "I just… do you really want to be here? It's a weird place. Your mother and father are both Inhumans. Your father's pretty good at that, but he's stuck in Saskatchewan with some cult. Your mother… well, she tries, but she's a little overwhelmed at the moment.

"But I guess you're coming into this world with a lot of love around you. _I_ love you, and there's a whole bunch of crazy people here who are going to spoil you rotten. DC can be your grandpa, is that okay? Mom's parents are… gone, and I've never talked to Lincoln… your father… about his family. And he's never volunteered much anyway.

"Then there's May. She's always surprising me. I guess she could be your grandma, although maybe we shouldn't tell her that until you're about forty-five.

"Fitz and Simmons will love you. Fitz has a great love of monkeys and Simmons has a whole bunch of fairy tale books under her bed, although I think she's forgotten about them because she's been really busy lately. And they'll be your aunt and uncle.

"And let's not forget about Uncle Mack and Uncle Hunter and Aunt Bobbi. I'll tell you all about them later.

"And I'll tell you about your Uncle Trip later too. He was… he's amazing. I mean, I'm not going to name you Antonia, after him, but… we'll figure out how to make sure he's still part of your life."

This time there was no kick in response, and Skye tried to get out of bed, desperate for the bathroom. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she was upright and waddling – oh, god, she was _waddling_ – towards the toilet.

"I meant what I said," she informed her belly. "I like you. And I love you. I know we don't know each other that well yet, but… I'm usually right about these kinds of things."

* * *

"Skye, can you go down to the office Mack's using and see if you can dig up the schematics for the cult compound?" Coulson asked the next morning. "He borrowed them from me, and based on the information he got to us last night, we might need to make up a plan to get some more agents in there."

"Sure," Skye said. "Hopefully you don't need it for about six months, since my top speed is more like a turtle and less of a rabbit. And also, my feet are too swollen to go too fast. Or fit into my shoes."

"When you get back with the schematics, May's going to take you into town for more appropriate clothing," Coulson said, giving her a wry grin. "Not that you don't look… interesting… in Mack's clothes."

Skye groaned and looked down at the "outfit" she'd put together from Mack's clothes and some of her own – mesh basketball shorts with the drawstring completely taken out of the waistband and an extra-large T-shirt she normally wore to sleep in, which was bright red and black and advertised a software company. And on her feet, the rubber flip-flops she wore for the shower. "It was all that fit," she informed Coulson.

"And you look adorable," Coulson said.

"I don't want to look adorable!"

"Then you look… mismatched?" Coulson offered.

"I think I'm done with this conversation," Skye said. "If you need me, I'll be in the hallway for the foreseeable future."

Coulson laughed and Skye smiled at him. "See you in a bit, DC. And if those are pastries…"

"I'll save you four," the director replied.

"Man after my own heart."

Skye made it to Mack's office a few minutes later, only slightly out of breath, and began her search for the schematics. Mack was generally a fastidiously neat person, but the sudden departure for Canada had caught him off guard, and everything was strewn about the office like a paper tornado had gone through.

" _All_ of this looks like schematics," Skye groaned. She began sifting through a pile of papers on the desk, which turned out to consist mostly of purchase orders for boring things like bolts and brackets. Another pile was catalogs selling boring things like wingnuts and cable ties. A third pile, this one on the chair, was an odd mishmash of car magazines and paper airplanes. There were cookie crumbs all over that particular pile.

"What the hell goes on in here?"

Finding nothing relevant on the desk, Skye moved on to the bookshelf, which contained paperwork and an impressive collection of alien artifacts. She brushed aside a metal box covered in strange symbols and something that looked like a pair of bizarre tongs, reaching for the paperwork at the back of the middle shelf.

The box knocked into a shallow plastic tub at the front of the shelf. Still preoccupied with the papers in the back, Skye didn't notice as the plastic tub wobbled. She heard it just as it crashed to the ground.

She jerked around to look at the tub; as she turned her elbow hit the metal box, which fell into the tub.

"Damn it," Skye muttered. Awkwardly she tried to bend down to pick up both items. As she got closer to them, she realized something was rising up from the tub.

It was blue.

It was misty.

"Oh, no," Skye gasped, realizing what must have been in the tub.

 _Terrigen crystals._

She was too close. She was breathing in the mist again. She tried to kick the tub away from her but her wobbly flip-flop feet wouldn't let her.

The baby in her belly started to flop wildly and Skye grit her teeth. Mack's office was getting smaller and darker and hazier.

 _Not good. NOT good._

Her knees went liquid and she tried to grab onto something as she fell to the floor. Papers and catalogs swept to the floor beside her. Fear arced through Skye's body and pain ricocheted up her spine as her tailbone made contact with the ground. Her vision got blurry and she lay down on the floor, desperate to escape the pain and the uncertainty.

"I'm… so… sorry," she whispered, putting her hand to her belly, and then the hazy darkness swallowed her up.

The blue mist settled around her unconscious form.


	9. Churning

**A/N:** Hi, readers. A few days after I posted the previous chapter of this story, I received the news that one of my students, a young woman with multiple disabilities and high medical needs, passed away after almost eight months in and out of the hospital. I had been with her for the majority of those eight months and was truly a part of her family. I loved her like a sister and her passing has been heartbreaking and unbelievable. Obviously I have been in no shape for writing, but that's slowly coming back. Thank you for being patient with me.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites. It makes me so happy to get feedback and to know that people are pleased with what I write.

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye groaned and put a hand to her head. It was pounding like she'd allowed a series of bass drummers to take up residence in her skull. She could faintly hear someone's voice, but her head hurt too much to process words.

Then she remembered what had happened. She sat up as quickly as she could, hands moving instantly to her belly.

Under her palms she felt movement, and some relief went through her throbbing aching body.

The voice spoke again. "Skye?"

"Don't… don't come in here!" she got out. "Broke… broke the crystals."

"We know." The voice got louder and closer, and Skye saw it was Coulson. He was standing on the other side of a glass wall. "We got you out of there."

Panic grabbed Skye. "Did you…?""

He held up his hand. "We took all the precautions necessary. Everyone's fine."

Skye sighed with relief.

"How do you feel?"

"Nauseous. And my head is ringing."

Coulson nodded. "Simmons is bringing you some medicine."

Skye winced and sat up the rest of the way, trying to get her heavy, aching body to the garbage can. As Coulson watched her with worried eyes, she made it there and hung her head over it, waiting for the nausea to subside. It swept over her in a sudden wave and she retched, suddenly glad she hadn't had anything to eat before she'd gone down to Mack's office.

Then she felt woozy because she hadn't had anything to eat and her knees wobbled.

"Don't pass out," Simmons ordered as she decompressed the chamber and entered, clad in a white Haz-Mat suit.

Skye turned and grabbed onto the bed, trying to find her center.

"Eat," Simmons ordered, and she passed Skye a large glass. "Well, drink."

"I was promised pastries," Skye muttered into her chest.

The baby wriggled and Skye groaned, feeling even more nauseous. "Give it to me," she sighed. "What the hell is it, anyway?"

Skye raised her head and took the glass. Simmons gave her a smile. "It's a high-protein nutrient-filled supplemental beverage, taking into account as much of your Inhuman biology as we were able to figure out. And prenatal vitamins, since I figured those would be hard on your stomach. Also it tastes like mango," she finished, sounding extremely pleased with herself.

"Mango?"

"Well, you like mango, and Fitz said chocolate was making you nauseous…"

The mere mention of it twisted Skye's stomach. "Stop."

"Okay. Drink that and I'll get your injections ready. I've got some painkillers and an anti-emetic."

From outside the chamber Coulson said, "Whenever you're feeling a little more stable, Skye, we'd like to talk to you about what happened."

"I'm fine, the baby's fine, I made a stupid mistake and I never found the schematics and I'm still wearing Mack's gym shorts." Skye took a short drink from the glass. "Simmons, this is delicious."

"I told you it would be."

"Okay," Coulson said. "We still need to…"

"Run some tests, I know," Skye said. She shook her head and took another swig from the glass.

Simmons stepped up next to Skye. "Little pinch," she said, and before Skye could protest, jabbed her with a needle.

" _Ow!"_ Skye protested.

"You're such a baby," Simmons said. "Now, get up here and sit on the bed because I'm thinking you're going to collapse here in a few minutes."

"Great." Skye rolled her eyes. She did as Simmons asked, though, pushing herself up onto the bed.

Pan shot through her hip and her knee buckled.

"Skye!" Coulson's voice was sharp with worry.

Simmons dropped whatever she was holding and grabbed Skye, supporting her. "Are you all right?"

"What the hell just happened to my hip?" Skye demanded.

"Round ligament pain," Simmons answered.

" _What?"_

"Your muscles are loosening because of the changes in your body," Simmons explained. "You'll probably experience…"

"Forget I asked," Skye grunted. "Just… help me sit down."

Simmons nodded, taking the glass of protein shake from Skye and setting it on the table next to the bed. Carefully she helped the pregnant young woman into a seated position. Skye pressed her hand to her belly. "I love you, kid, but you're… you're messing with a lot of stuff."

She was feeling woozy again, and Simmons gently slid her onto the bed, straightening out her body. "Get some rest," the Brit suggested.

"You… drugged me again," Skye mumbled, her eyes already closing.

"Just gently," Simmons said. "Let us run some tests, and you rest. I'll put the rest of that protein beverage through the cannula in your foot. Your vitals are off the charts in some very worrying ways, and we need to know more about what happened to you today."

Skye groaned and her eyes slid closed.

"And I'll find you a pillow that should put your ligaments back into position" was the last thing she heard from Simmons.

"I'll be here when you wake up" was the last thing she heard from Coulson, and then she dropped into sleep's waiting arms, her hands still pressed to her belly.

* * *

Mack slid a gas mask over his face as he moved towards the still-glowing tent in the center of the compound. The drone surveillance was still showing the cultists all sprawled out on the ground.

The sun had come up while Mack had tried to figure out a plan, and now he barely had one as he moved. He stopped a few hundred feet from the tent and rapidly scanned the area, using all of his senses and all of the capabilities of the drones. They reported back to him quickly, showing no sign of gaseous contaminants or any solid-state biological weaponry.

He sighed and pulled off the gas mask. Time to get into the tent and figure out what had happened during the stare-at-the-moon cake party.

Carefully he moved into the tent.

No one moved, and Mack counted at least fifty people sprawled on the lush green grass.

Movement from the other side of the tent drew his attention and he whirled to the side, drawing his weapon.

Lincoln entered the tent wearing the most ridiculous outfit Mack had ever seen – a billowy bright red caftan and a turban of the same color. Around his neck was a gigantic jeweled pendant, and he wore thick gold bracelets around his wrists and ankles. The complete effect was that of a Bollywood rapper.

"What the hell is that?" Mack demanded, completely forgetting that Lincoln was most likely brainwashed.

"Yeah, I don't know," the blond replied, looking down at himself. "I got here and they believed I was the Second Coming and before I knew it I was in this get-up."

Lincoln looked up. "What are you doing here, by the way?"

"I'm not the only one here," Mack said, not lowering his weapon. "Bobbi and Hunter are here too, except they're over here slumped on the floor. What's in that cake?"

Lincoln shrugged. "Some sort of sedative. Or a roofie. Ketamine? Could it be ketamine?"

Mack holstered his weapon grudgingly. "You have to come home."

"Yeah, I know," Lincoln said. "They won't let me leave."

"Why don't you just shock 'em into submission?"

"Have you seen them? They have guns. _Big_ guns."

"Skye's pregnant," Mack said without further pretense.

Lincoln's mouth dropped open. " _What?"_

"And her father gave her some serum when we were onboard the SS Real Shield and she went from six weeks to twenty weeks in four days."

Lincoln staggered over to the closest chair, stepping on a cult member's forehead as he did so, and dropped into it. "How is that possible?"

"It's Inhuman."

"That's not an answer!" Lincoln's voice rose to a near-shriek.

"I don't have a better answer," Mack said. "But you need to come home."

"Mack?" Coulson's voice echoed through the coms.

"Go for Mack."

"How's the mission going?"

"I found Lincoln."

"How is he? Brainwashed?"

"No," Mack said. "Thankfully. Just… dressed like he escaped from some weird Indian movie."

"Bring him home," Coulson said. He sounded tense.

"Something wrong?" Mack asked.

"Not necessarily," Coulson said.

"That's not a great answer."

Coulson sighed. "Ask Lincoln if he's ever heard of a fetus going through Terrigenesis."

" _What?"_

"Just ask," Coulson said.

Mack repeated the question to Lincoln.

If possible, more color faded from the other man's face. "No. Never heard of that. It's got to be horrible."

"Why?" Mack asked.

"Have you seen a transition?"

"No."

"Be grateful. They're terrifying."

Mack put his head in his hands. "Any more information?"

Lincoln thought about this, reaching up to remove his turban. "She's… _Skye's_ … her vital signs will tank. She's going to be severely dehydrated, probably require blood pressure support… the… the… baby's going to start pulling more energy out of her. And her body's going to try and fight it – she's already been through a transition once, and one thing all Inhumans agree on is that nobody survives twice for very good reasons."

"Just once I want good news," Mack grumbled, and then he repeated Lincoln's words to Coulson.

"I'll let Simmons know," Coulson answered tersely.

"Once we get Bobbi and Hunter loaded into the RV we'll head home," Mack said. "Keep an eye on Skye for us."

"We will."

"Let's go, Miss Cleo," Mack said, gesturing to Lincoln. "Help me get those two in the RV, and then you're going to drive it out of here while I go back for the gear."

Lincoln nodded, still looking stunned.

"Hey," Mack said, forcing the other man to look at him.

Lincoln met his eyes.

"We're going to figure this all out. Skye's important to all of us, and we're not going to let anything happen to her or your kid."

"Thank you," Lincoln said quietly.

"Let's move."

They carried Bobbi and Hunter to the RV, one by one, both agents floppy and dead weight.

"God, this is some serious stuff," Mack muttered.

"Yeah. It's… an experience."

"What do you usually do when this happens?"

"Honestly? I take a _lot_ of hilarious selfies."

Mack closed the door to the RV. "Why didn't you try to leave?"

"You already asked that, and I told you. These people are demented and heavily armed. I _did_ try to leave once, but as it turns out, running away from people with guns while wearing a red costume in the middle of rural Saskatchewan isn't the smartest way to live one's life." Lincoln frowned. "And as it turns out, whatever's in that cake significantly lowered my abilities."

Mack shook his head. "Well, we're getting out of here now, so it doesn't matter."

"Think again, hoser." A rough voice barked at them from behind the RV.

Mack turned, hand on his weapon, as four cultists approached, carrying heavy weaponry. All four men were dressed in tactical gear, a strange sight after the robe-wearing passed-out men and women in the tent.

Another man spoke. "You can't take the guru."

The third man agreed. "The guru stays with us."

"Aw, hell," Mack muttered. "Just when I thought this was going to be easy."

* * *

"Andrew."

"Melinda."

"It's good to see you again."

"Is it?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

Andrew smiled. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Are you hungry? And before you answer that, I didn't cook. Fitz made pancakes."

"I might be persuaded to eat a few." Andrew picked up his suitcase and followed May into the base. "How's Skye?"

May shook her head slightly. "It just keeps getting worse."

"What's the latest?"

"Twenty weeks pregnant."

Andrew let out a soft whistle.

"But Simmons is pretty sure the serum's effects have leveled off," May went on.

"So that's good." Andrew looked at May. "I'm sensing there's more."

May sighed. "She went down to Mack's office this morning to look for something for Coulson and managed to knock a box of Terrigen crystals onto the floor, and then crush it with something."

Andrew stopped mid-stride. "Oh."

"Yeah. No one's figured out what that means yet, but our theory at the moment is the fetus went through Terrigenesis."

"God."

May nodded.

"Is she awake? I'd like to talk to her."

"She's in quarantine, and she's in and out, but when she's awake she's remarkably lucid and… well, Skye."

"And the father?"

"Mack's in Saskatchewan with Bobbi and Hunter. They're trying to bring him home."

Coulson met them as they were about to head into the med bay.

"Tell me there's news," May ordered.

"There's news. None of it's good."

"I'm seeing a trend," Andrew said, and he shook Coulson's hand.

"Lincoln's not brainwashed, but he gave us some dour news about a fetus going through Terrigenesis."

May didn't say anything, nor did her expression change, but Coulson read her body language well enough to know that she was both scared and angry. At last she spoke. "This never should have happened," she said in a low voice.

Coulson shook his head. "No."

May turned to Andrew. "You can go in there. If she's awake she'll talk to you. If she's not… I left a book on the table. Trashy mystery, but it passes the time. Pancakes are in the microwave in the kitchen."

Andrew nodded. "Where are you going?"

"To town. Someone needs to get Skye some clothes that fit. After she gets out of quarantine she'll have to get scrubbed down anyway, and I don't think she wants to wear Mack's clothes any longer."

"I would say take Fitz, since he looks upset about all of this, but as much as it gives me the mental giggles to think of Fitz in a maternity clothing store, I think he'd hate it," Coulson said.

"I could tell him we'd stop for ice cream."

"That might change his mind."

May gave another nod to Andrew and headed off down the hallway.

"How's everyone else coping?" Andrew asked as Coulson opened the door and ushered him into the medical bay.

"It seems like we haven't slept," Coulson said. "Most of us haven't. Skye's been either violently ill or destroying things with her powers. Sometimes both."

"She lost control of her powers?"

"The change in hormones caused fluctuations," Coulson said. "At least, that's what we think. We're kind of playing all this by ear, since we sort of obliterated everyone who knows anything about Inhuman pregnancies."

He gestured to the quarantine chamber. "Your patient awaits. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go speak with Agent Simmons."

Andrew set his suitcase down and crossed the floor to the chair in front of the quarantine chamber. "Hi, Skye," he said, glad that her brown eyes seemed alert despite the total and complete exhaustion radiating off her body. He tried very hard not to look at her swollen abdomen, or the way her hands were pressed to it. "See you've brought the casts back into style."

"Not by choice," Skye said. "None of this was really my choice."

She waved one hand at the medical equipment around her. "Turns out there are worse things than being given a regenerative serum by your father that speeds up a pregnancy… apparently I'm just the kind of clumsy that knocks terrigen crystals into a box and then breaks them."

She winced and shifted position.

"How are you feeling? Mentally, I mean," Andrew asked.

"Confused. And exhausted. It's been a whirlwind."

Simmons approached in a Haz-Mat suit. "Doctor Garner! It's lovely to see you," she said.

"Hello, Agent Simmons," Andrew said.

"I'm just going in to assess Skye's vitals and hook up some intravenous supplements and medication," Simmons said. "Then I'll let you continue."

"Not if I'm asleep," Skye said.

"Please, don't let me keep you awake," Andrew said. "I understand how stressful this has been."

Simmons entered the chamber and began threading IVs into the cannula in Skye's foot. "Skye, I've received some information from Lincoln."

"He's alive? And not brainwashed?"

"Yes to both," Simmons said. "He and Mack are heading back from Saskatchewan with Bobbi and Hunter. Uh, but Lincoln told us a few things about…"

She waved her heavily-gloved hand at Skye. "… about what might happen."

"Why am I thinking it's not going to be sunshine and rainbows?" Skye tilted her head to look Simmons in the eye.

"It's not," Simmons said seriously. "But we'll keep you comfortable."

"Jemma! That is not the right thing to say," Skye said. "That makes me sound like I'm dying."

She froze. "I'm _not_ dying, right?"

"Not today," Simmons replied. "Your body's going to experience some massive changes, though."

"More massive than me after all the changes today?" Skye waved one hand at her belly.

"Yes," Simmons said, a gentle smile on her face. "But you're going to be okay. Both of you. I promise."

Skye winced and shifted position slightly. "She says 'thanks.' Or 'bitch, please.' We don't quite communicate on the same wavelengths yet."

"So you know it's a girl," Andrew said from behind the glass.

"No," Skye said. "Not for certain. There's just something… I just know."

"Mother's intuition," Andrew said, nodding.

"Ugh," Skye said, rolling her eyes. "That makes me sound old. I just _feel_ old."

She looked over at Simmons. "Hey, Jemma?"

"Yes?"

"I need the…" Skye swallowed, hard. "Trash can."

Simmons dropped whatever she was holding and dragged the garbage can over. Skye rolled further to one side and threw up.

"Yeah, not going to miss that," she groaned.

Simmons handed her a wet washcloth.

"Getting tired," Skye said as she wiped her mouth. "Also a little fuzzy. No. _You're_ a little fuzzy."

Simmons took the washcloth back. "We're trying to get your vitals under control. It might take a bit. Just hang on."

"Nowhere else to go," Skye murmured, and she let Simmons pull the blanket back over her. "Sorry, Doctor Head-Shrinker."

Andrew laughed. "I'll be here. Melinda left me a novel to read."

"It's a pulp noir," Skye said. "The detective's name is Clive Law."

"That's a perfect name for a detective," Andrew said.

"He's looking for…" Skye's voice trailed off. "… statue… haunted…"

She blinked. "We're going… to have a nap."

"Go right ahead," Andrew said. "I'll catch up with the Law man."

"That's funny," Skye said, a dopey smile on her face. "You're funny."

"I try," Andrew said.

* * *

"Agent May?"

"Yes, Fitz?"

"You promised me we'd get ice cream, right?"

"Yes. Is there something wrong?"

"What? No."

"You sound panicked."

"I am not. I just saw… some sort of…"

"Spit it out, Fitz."

"… girdle. And it quite possibly frightened me."

May poked her head around a rack of maternity tops, giving Fitz a small smile. "I saw that too. We're definitely getting ice cream."


	10. Flickers

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites!

In the next chapter: Lincoln makes it back to base (or does he?), Skye learns more about the baby, more FitzSimmons cuteness, and trouble comes knocking at the Playground.

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye blinked up at the ceiling. It was more of a fuzzy blur. She could feel her pulse in her ears. Her mouth was dry and she felt strangely disconnected, almost as though she was floating in the quarantine chamber.

 _Mama_.

Skye turned her head, seeing only Andrew, still sitting on the uncomfortable chair outside the chamber. She was pretty sure he wasn't the one who had just said "Mama," and she was also pretty sure that he'd asked her a question and was still waiting for an answer.

"Skye?" Andrew stood and moved towards the glass wall.

 _Mama?_

"I don't understand," Skye said.

"I asked if the blood pressure medication was making you nauseous."

"Why would you call me that?"

A kick radiated up Skye's belly under her hand. _'Cause that's what you are._

"Call you what, Skye?" Andrew sounded worried.

"I'm not that yet," Skye protested, rubbing her casted fingers in slow circles on her belly. She was feeling even more floaty and insubstantial, and she desperately needed something to keep her grounded. "I won't be that for a few more months at least."

"Skye. Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you," Skye replied, looking over at him irritably.

"Okay. Who are you talking to?"

"I don't know her name yet," Skye replied grumpily. "She won't tell me."

She couldn't understand why Andrew looked so upset. He looked around the lab in a quick series of glances, seemingly seeking someone. Then he took a few steps away from the chamber.

 _Mama._

"I'm listening," Skye said. Pain shot up her leg to her hip and her lower back and she winced and stretched, trying to get away from it.

Lying down had become too problematic. Skye put her hand to her belly and carefully sat upright.

It was the wrong choice. The room spun around her and she lost feeling below her shoulders, her entire body now floating somewhere in space. Andrew was gone from view, but she was too disconnected to care.

The kicking got stronger, radiating up against her palm. A terrifying thought arced across Skye's brain. "It didn't… _I_ didn't hurt you, did I?"

Something like a giggle bubbled up to her ears. _No. Can't hurt me. I'm_ –

"Skye?" Andrew was back.

She looked up. Simmons and Coulson were standing with him just outside the chamber.

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"I feel like I'm made of cotton candy and my brain's probably not attached to my mouth at this point. I feel floaty and silly and… _thirsty_ ," Skye said, realizing what the last sensation bothering her was.

"Okay," Simmons said. "I'll see if I can get you something to drink."

"Water. Ice water," Skye said, her eyes lighting up. "Ooh! And lemonade. Or apple juice."

Simmons nodded. "All right. I'll find those for you, shall I?"

She stepped away. Coulson and Andrew exchanged a look. Coulson spoke first. "Skye, who are you talking to?"

"Right now?" She looked at him like he was crazy. "You."

"Okay," Coulson said. "Now, who were you talking to earlier?"

"Simmons," she said. "Did… something else happen? Did I have a stroke or something?"

"No," Andrew answered. "But you were talking to someone."

"Who was it?" Skye looked at Coulson.

He shrugged. "I wasn't here."

Skye thought about this. She had been alone in the room for quite some time. Simmons and Andrew were the only two people she'd seen in the last few hours. The three of them – Simmons, Andrew, and Coulson – were the only ones she'd seen since she woke up. "I don't know who it was," she said.

Andrew and Coulson shared another glance.

"You seemed to know them," Andrew said, his voice still steady and professional. "But you didn't know their name."

Somewhere in the fuzzy cotton wool pile that was her brain, Skye found two synapses that could connect. "I don't know her name," she said. "She won't tell me. Maybe she doesn't know."

" _Who_ , Skye?" Coulson asked, stepping a bit closer to the glass.

Two more synapses got there. "You think I'm crazy."

"I think… I'd like some more explanations for things," Coulson offered.

"No! You think I'm crazy!"

"Skye, calm down," Coulson said, putting his hands up.

"Just because I can hear her and you can't!"

" _Who_ , Skye? _Who_ can you hear?"

Skye stood up and nearly all of her body regretted it. She was held up by sheer rage and frustration as she took steps towards the glass wall separating her from the two men. She focused on them, on moving towards them, so much so that she didn't realize things around her were shaking.

"Skye, take a breath," Andrew counseled. "Slow down and tell us."

Skye clenched her fists as best she could with the casts. The monitors around her began to beep a warning, and some part of her saw Simmons dart back over, carrying two go-cups with lids.

"What are you doing?" Simmons demanded of the two men.

"I can hear her! Why is that so bad?" Skye put her hands to her head. "I just… I can't… why would you want to take that away?"

"We don't want to take it away," Coulson said carefully. "We just want to know who you're talking to."

"She's right here!"

"Show us," Andrew suggested.

"Gentlemen, Skye's vital signs are becoming distressed," Simmons said from behind them. "I advise that whatever you're doing continues at a later point."

"Right _here!"_ Skye yelled, and she indicated her belly with both of her casted arms.

As though those two words released all of her pent up anger and all of her strength, she found herself wobbling on her feet, the world steadily growing fuzzier around her. Things around her settled back to their places, and her arms throbbed.

"Sit down," Simmons barked through the glass.

"Thirsty," Skye said.

" _Sit down_ ," Simmons repeated sternly.

Skye sighed and wobbled back to the bed. Her body ached and she could feel her hip joints slipping out again. Somehow she managed to sit down, looking over at Simmons, Andrew, and Coulson. "God, you guys are looking at me like I kicked a puppy."

"Well, no, since you're talking to a child who's still in your belly, we're looking at you like you're nuts," Simmons snapped as she tried to struggle into her Haz-Mat suit.

"Just open the damn door," Skye said angrily. "You all know I'm fine!"

Simmons looked at her fiercely, dumped the rest of the Haz-Mat suit on the floor, then moved to the door and marched into the chamber.

For some reason Skye froze, thinking Simmons was angry enough to slap her. Instead the scientist immediately hugged Skye fiercely.

More tension sluiced from Skye's body, and she found she was crying into Simmons' shoulder.

"It's all right," Simmons whispered gently.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's all right."

"She called me _mama_ and I knew it was wrong and I didn't want to but she sounds so nice and…"

"Shh, Skye," Simmons said. "I know she'll be just wonderful."

"Why is this so _hard?"_ Skye whimpered.

"Because, as usual, you're doing things no one's ever done before," Simmons replied. "Lincoln said he's never heard of a fetus going through Terrigenesis. _Ever_. You just always have to be a trendsetter, huh?"

Skye gave a watery chuckle, her head still pressed against Simmons' shoulder.

"I know you're confused and upside down," Simmons said, "but you're actually much stronger than you think. Your vital signs are consistent with someone who's either on fire or in a coma or both, and look at you, mostly upright, and – _ooh!"_

"What?" Skye pulled back from the embrace.

Simmons' gaze was on her belly. "Did it…?"

Skye nodded. "She kicked."

"Oh, _my_." Simmons sounded completely enraptured. She leaned forward a bit, putting her palm against Skye's rounded abdomen. "Hello, darling. I'm… I'm your Aunt Jemma."

Skye loved the way that sounded, and she found tears rushing back to her eyes. "Damn hormones," she muttered.

Another kick pulsed up against Simmons' hand. "Oh, my. You're a strong little thing, aren't you?"

 _You love Uncle Fitz_.

Simmons jerked back. "Did you hear that?" she murmured to Skye.

Skye shook her head.

"Oh. Oh, dear."

"What?" Skye asked, shifting her weight on the bed.

"I heard…" Simmons waved her hands in the air confusedly. "I can't even figure out…"

A knowing smile crossed Skye's face. "You heard _her_ ," she whispered.

"Huh," Simmons said, and then she took a few steps backwards away from Skye, an odd look on her face. She'd nearly made it to the door when she collapsed to the floor.

* * *

"Listen to your guru," Mack advised as the four men with guns led their captives into one of the lodges and then down a long flight of stairs into a fortified bunker of a basement, then further forward, into a small room. None of them had given names, so Mack had given them shorthand code names based on their outfits.

"He's not our guru," Flannel Shirt Ball Cap said.

"He is an imposter," Black Boots No Belt agreed. "He came in here and started a revolution."

"I came to _help_ someone!" Lincoln protested.

Denim Jacket Khaki Pants shoved Lincoln to the floor. "You didn't help anyone. You ruined the Guru's message, you ruined our congregation. And now…"

"Let me guess, we'll pay," Mack said.

Zip-Up Sweatshirt rolled his eyes. "No, you'll wait. We'll bring the Guru to you."

They slammed the door, leaving Mack and Lincoln looking at each other in the cold light of the bare bulb overhead.

"I thought you said the guru was a fraud," Mack said.

"I don't actually know," Lincoln said. "I never saw him do anything guru-y, but to be honest, I'm not really sure what that would look like."

He threw his turban to the floor and quickly began taking off the rest of the ridiculous outfit. Underneath he wore a T-shirt and shorts. "I know it's not practical, but I can't stay in this costume any longer."

"What took you so long?" Mack grunted.

Lincoln tossed his red caftan into the corner. "How long is it going to take for your two backups to get in here and save us?"

Mack looked at his watch. "I'd give 'em… six more minutes. Hunter's got a high tolerance for all kinds of good things. Hopefully he'll shake off your cake roofies and sound the alarm."

Lincoln groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. "God, this is _awful_."

"Hey," Mack said sharply. "You don't get to feel sorry for yourself now. All of this is minor garbage compared to what's going down at the base."

Lincoln shook his head. "I can't go back there."

"What the hell are you talking about? You _have_ to go back," Mack said. "With everything going on, you're the closest thing we have to an expert on Inhumans…"

"No," Lincoln said fiercely. "I can't go back. There's nothing there for me."

"There's Skye. And a _child_ ," Mack retorted. "They both need you."

"They're both better off without me."

Mack had plenty more to say to that, but the sound of footsteps from the hallway caught his attention. "No more time for thinking. Time for action, Sparky."

* * *

"Okay, remember the plan?"

"The plan was literally three steps, Hunter. I think I've got it."

"I'm only asking because I feel like the Hulk himself was tap-dancing on my skull," Hunter said. "I'm not sure what's the weirdest part about this – the fact that we got roofied by cake, the fact that we woke up in these gowns in the RV, or the blurry blank part in my mind where I'm pretty sure you and I kissed."

" _What?"_ Bobbi whipped around and nearly instantly regretted it. "Uggh… too fast."

She put a hand to her head. "How do you know we kissed?"

"We woke up face to face," Hunter answered. "And my mouth tastes like raspberries."

"I've _never_ tasted like raspberries," Bobbi said. She moved the RV seat forward and started the vehicle. "And for what it's worth, neither have you."

"We have extra clothes in here?" Hunter looked around. "I don't really want to go save Mack and Sparky wearing a dress."

Bobbi let out a low-pitched chuckle. "We left our clothes in the lodge. After you rescue Lincoln and Mack, you can find them."

"Or after you hit those jokers with the RV, I might just take theirs," Hunter replied.

"You ready?" Bobbi asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Hunter said. "And I'm _never_ eating cake again."

* * *

"It was a completely bizarre experience," Fitz related to Simmons as he handed her a navy shirt. "I saw things I still can't describe."

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons said, but she gave him a wan smile.

Fitz put his hand over hers. "Did something happen while we were gone?"

Simmons carefully folded the navy maternity top and pulled out the next item of clothing. "It talked to me."

"What? What did?"

Simmons sighed. "No, it's crazy. Forget I said anything."

Fitz turned towards Skye's bathroom. He could plainly hear the shower still running. "She's going to be done soon, but for now she's still in there."

"I know. I should have gone in there with her," Simmons said. "I don't want her to pass out."

"No, I was saying it's a good thing. Tell me what happened," Fitz said. "I won't freak out."

Simmons set down the pair of pants she'd been holding. "The baby," she whispered to Fitz.

Fitz nodded.

"The baby… _talked_ to Skye." Simmons shook her head. "And then it talked… to _me_."

"What?" Fitz stood up so fast he knocked the chair over. "How's that even possible?"

"It went through Terrigenesis," Simmons said, throwing her hands up. "We're in uncharted waters."

"So it's telepathic," Fitz said. "What else?"

"I got overwhelmed and passed out. Just completely mentally fried. It was bizarre, like having an egg-beater taken to one's brain."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"What do you mean, _anything else?_ Isn't that bizarre enough?"

Fitz gave her a smile. "Honestly? After everything that's happened throughout this extremely abbreviated and terrifying pregnancy? No."

Simmons groaned.

Fitz pulled her a bit closer and onto his lap. "Stop worrying. Things will work out."

The shower turned off, and Simmons moved to get up.

"Stop," Fitz said. "Stay here."

"I need to go…"

Fitz kissed her cheek, and she turned towards him and kissed him on the lips.

"That's what the baby said," Simmons murmured.

"What did the baby say?"

" _You love Uncle Fitz_."

"Well, lucky for that little scamp, you do," Fitz said.

She kissed him again.

"Are you guys making out?" Skye called through the door. "I don't care, but if so, could you maybe take a quick break? I need some help getting dressed with the IV in my foot, and… also, I don't think I can get my socks on."

Simmons smiled, her lips still against Fitz's. "Be right there, Skye," she answered.

"She's so needy," Fitz whispered.

"Makes me feel useful," Simmons murmured back.

"I could make you feel useful."

"And we'll pause it there," Simmons said, grinning. "Will you go find some food? I'm starving."

"Sandwiches?"

"Sounds lovely."

Fitz stood and straightened his sweater.

"Fitz?" Simmons turned back towards him, carrying Skye's new clothes, her casts, and the medical supplies needed to clean around the IV cannula.

"What?"

"Food for _four_ ," Simmons said. "Not just you and me, unfortunately."

"I know." He waved as he left Skye's quarters.

"Guys?" Skye called again. "Um, hello? Not that I mind you having some alone time, or whatever, but you sat me on a chair in here and told me not to get up _or else_ , and then Fitz described what that would be and there were a lot of science-y words in there and I'm starving and I'm freezing and I'm thirsty, and…"

" _So_ needy," Simmons said, shaking her head.


	11. Staggering

**A/N:** I worked on this for about four days. I have no idea what happened (it never takes me this long)... except this is exactly what was supposed to happen. I'm sorry, I've just been completely overwhelmed by all of the wonderful new promos for season three. And, you know, all the real-world stuff, but whatever. HAHAHA.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites. I love getting messages and reading comments! You're the best.

Ten points to whoever finds the "2 Broke Girls" quote in this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Mama._

 _Mama, wake up_.

Skye sighed in her sleep and rolled to one side. She unconsciously moved her fingers to her belly, gently pressing small circles into the taut skin.

 _Mama, wake up._

Skye shifted again, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders.

 _Mama, I want to play._

As though those words were some sort of catalyst, Skye abruptly opened her eyes, pushed down the blanket, and got out of bed. Without further hesitation she stepped barefoot across the room, opened the door, and slipped out into the hallway.

* * *

Simmons put her head in her hands and groaned. She'd been up for several hours past her limits, and her body was screaming for sleep, but she didn't want to leave until she had figured out a way to make sure that the effects of the fetus' Terrigenesis weren't going to be life-threatening to Skye.

She stood up, rolling her head to work some of the kinks out. It had gotten chilly in the lab and she was ready for another cup of tea.

Simmons stood, reaching absentmindedly to one side to pick up her tea mug.

It wasn't there.

She looked over at the place it used to be, and… it was there, okay.

But it was hovering.

Simmons let out a shriek and the mug slammed down to the lab table, shattering. As the shards flew everywhere she noticed they were leaving trails of… of _something_ behind. Streams of light? Wisps of…? She couldn't begin to figure out what they were. All she knew was that they were purple.

Movement from the hallway caught her eye and she turned. Another wave of terror rolled over her – other things in the lab were hovering, too, surrounded by that same purple light – beakers and a microscope and bottles of chemicals and –

Simmons bolted out into the hallway and nearly took Skye out in her haste. Her dark-haired friend was moving slowly down the hallway, head tilted to one side, one hand out as her fingers trailed against the wall. Skye's bare feet were leaving footprints of the same purple trail that had come out of Simmons' mug. And her fingertips, on the wall, were drawing wobbly streaks of the same color.

"Skye?" Simmons asked, her voice shaking.

Skye didn't stop or slow down; she gave no sign of hearing Simmons.

"Skye," Simmons said, a little more firmly. She took a few hurried steps down the hallway, catching up to Skye, and she put one hand on Skye's shoulder.

Her friend turned towards her and Simmons stepped back with a gasp. All of Skye's exposed skin was mottled with the same purple… _whatever it was_. It seemed to be pulsing and flowing through her like some sort of strange venous map; the only thing Simmons could compare it to was the immediate after-burn from an ICER round, the blue pulse that marbled the place the round entered the body.

 _She's not here right now_.

Simmons jerked back even further. It was _that_ voice – the one she'd heard earlier.

A sudden horrifying thought pulsed through her, and she reached out carefully to pull up the hem of Skye's pajama top.

" _Oh, God_ ," she whispered.

Over Skye's still-innie belly button, at the very apex of her rounded abdomen, was a handprint. It was tiny, it was purple, and it seemed to be pressing up from the _inside_ of Skye's belly.

Skye just stood still as Simmons looked her over, blinking patiently, her fingers still touching the wall.

"What are you doing?" Simmons hissed. She couldn't tell what overwhelming emotion was threatening to make her heart explode, but it vacillated quickly between panic and annoyance.

 _Playing_.

"No!" Simmons' voice was a shrill cry. "You are a _fetus!_ Put her back!"

 _She'll be back soon._

"I have got to be hallucinating," Simmons muttered.

 _You didn't like me earlier. You don't like me now._

"I am not… arguing… with a fetus."

 _I have a name, you know_.

"Bloody hell."

 _That is not it_.

Simmons backed away from Skye.

"Jemma?"

Simmons whirled around, barely noticing that May had an ICER drawn. "Agent May! Thank God!"

"What's going on?" May asked, indicating the footprints on the floor, still steadily glowing purple. Her voice was steady, but her body posture suggested she was more than a little shaken. "I'm guessing someone didn't get into our poster paint supply."

"I don't know," Simmons managed to get out. "It's just…"

The ICER in May's hand rose into the air and flew off down the hallway.

May's eyes widened further. "What the hell is happening?"

Simmons leaned in and delicately pulled up the hem of Skye's shirt again, showing May the pulsing purple handprint.

May frowned. "Is that…?"

 _Momma May_.

" _No_!" burst out of May's mouth before she could stop it. She clapped her hands over her mouth, backing away from Skye.

"Did she talk to you?" Simmons asked gently.

"This is a _thing?"_

Simmons had never seen May out of control, _ever_ , but the situation in front of them definitely qualified as a good one to lose control over.

"Who else knows about this?" May's voice shook.

"Skye, Coulson, Dr. Garner, Fitz, myself, and now… you," Simmons said.

"And you're _calm?"_

"I'm actually trying very hard not to check myself into the loony bin," Simmons replied.

May took a deep breath and moved closer to Skye. "Hi, little one," May said, her voice only slightly wobbly. "What are you doing?"

 _You shot my mama._

"Because she _asked_ me to!" May protested.

 _No more guns for you._

May threw her hands up and strode a few paces away. "Dear God. I'm arguing with…"

"With a fetus," Simmons confirmed. "And she's awfully sassy."

"How do we… how do we get it to stop?"

 _Might as well ask the one in charge_.

May and Simmons turned back towards Skye.

"Did we both…?" Simmons stuttered. A quick look at May confirmed that they'd both heard the message.

"Fine," May said. "This isn't weird enough already. Little one, will you take your mama back to bed?"

There was no response, and May and Simmons shared a glance, trying to figure out if it had all been some detailed hallucination.

When the voice replied, it was small and sad. _Do I have to go away forever?_

"Oh, sweetheart, no," Simmons said, emotion flooding back through her. "Soon you'll be born and you can play with all of us and…"

"But _until then_ ," May said firmly, "you have to let Skye rest. She needs to stay healthy. For her, and for you. Do you understand?"

Another pause.

 _Are you afraid of me? Like you're afraid of my mama?_

Simmons gasped.

May put a hand to her forehead.

 _It's okay. That's my answer. I'm all done playing now._

All of the purple trails of… _whatever_ it was began winding themselves back towards Skye's body, disappearing rapidly from the floor, the walls, and her body, swirling back through her skin and into her belly.

Skye blinked up at them confusedly.

Before she could speak, a series of loud crashes echoed up from the lab behind them as all of the previously-hovering things ceased to hover.

Skye yawned. "Do we have any more chocolate pudding?"

* * *

"I'm not going back with you," Lincoln said firmly.

"We just drove an RV through a cult compound _for you_ while suffering from the after-effects of the _worst_ drug trip I've _ever_ taken, and I'm including the time I sat down on an armchair in Berlin and woke up on a bloke's couch in Wisconsin _twelve days later_ ," Hunter snapped. "Mate, the _last_ thing you're doing is staying here."

He looked over at Bobbi and Mack, waiting for their support.

Lincoln spoke first. "Oh, I'm not staying here. But I'm not going back to the base."

Mack groaned. "We've been over this, Sparky. Skye's back at the base and…"

"It's better for her if I'm not there," Lincoln interrupted firmly. "It's better for _both_ of them."

"What kind of attitude is that?" Bobbi asked.

Lincoln threw his hands up. "Inhuman pregnancies are _not_ … they're not…"

"You realize that there's about two people in the world we can contact about Inhuman stuff, and one of them didn't find out she was an Inhuman until really recently?" Mack tilted his head.

"Not to be squabbling about this _now_ ," Lincoln said, "but you realize that's because the majority of them have gone underground and the others are dead, mostly because of _you?"_

"Fine," Mack said abruptly. "If you don't want to go back with us, get out now. You can walk to wherever it is you think you're going."

Bobbi shot a glare at Mack.

Lincoln stood. "Fine."

"Just know that you will not be welcome back at the base," Mack said. "If you get out there and change your mind, which I know you will, you're going to have to earn your way back in. With us and undoubtedly with Skye."

Lincoln grabbed his coat from the bench seat in the RV. He slung his pack over his shoulder and shoved the door open.

Before he could exit the vehicle entirely, Bobbi spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. "Skye came to find you against all odds. She had to get support from _Raina_ , someone she didn't trust _at all_. She had to prove her worth to Gordon. She had to work on a team with a man who threatened to take everything she held dear away from her – she had to go to the Arctic with _Grant Ward_. She saved your life without even knowing if it was possible because she cared about you. She put herself in danger every time she knew you needed her help."

Lincoln put his head down.

"And now she needs your help. We _all_ need your help, and you're going to just walk off into the sunset and pretend as though this isn't your problem."

Lincoln sighed and looked up at her. "It's not," he said, and he got out of the RV, slamming the door behind him.

"Anyone ever think we're not good at pep talks?" Hunter asked in the sudden silence.

* * *

"All right, so, _why_ do I want to do this?"

"Well, on account of… you're trying to… uhh…" Fitz furrowed his brow. "Y'know, no one's ever asked me that before."

"It just seems so pointless."

"Uh, well, you have to… sort of… move… uhhh… that thing… towards _that_ thing, and then…"

"Couldn't we just do something else?"

"I guess. This is what Mack and I usually… how we usually relax."

"What's relaxing about this?"

"There's the movement, and the skill, and… sometimes there's zombies?"

Coulson carefully set the controller down on the coffee table. "Fitz, I respect you as a person and an agent, but I can't play any more video games with you."

"We haven't even _played_ any video games yet," Fitz said. "You've stared at a loading screen for twenty minutes."

"That's only the _loading screen?_ " Coulson asked in shock. "It was so appealing and the music was so jaunty that I thought it was some sort of… I don't know, intro level."

"If it helps we usually drink while we play," Fitz offered. "And you can't be any worse than Dr. Garner."

Coulson turned to look at Andrew.

"Apparently you're not supposed to get stuck in a door exiting a safety bunker," the psychiatrist said. "And then when you restart the level and get to that same position, you're not supposed to shoot yourself in the head on accident."

"No. No, you're not," Fitz agreed.

"Just one question," Coulson said, watching as Andrew tentatively picked up the controller. "What ever happened to Pong? _That_ I could play with one hand."

"I can make you a controller," Fitz said. "That's not the hard part."

Andrew pressed a button and the screen went black, reopening to show his character, a tall humanoid figure in a bulky suit of armor. "Okay, so, who am I again? Voltron?"

Fitz groaned. "I need something to drink."

"Make it a double, and put half of it into my glass," May said as she wandered in.

"I don't know… what that means," Fitz said.

"Bring the woman a drink," Andrew said, and Fitz nodded, heading for the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Coulson asked.

May sank down on the couch next to Andrew. "You're all real, right?"

"As opposed to what?" Andrew mashed a few buttons on the controller and his character began moving across a desert wasteland with an odd loping gait.

May shook her head.

Fitz returned with two juice boxes and handed one to May.

"Fitz," May said sternly. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Hunter drank all the beer," Fitz said, "and I was drinking water earlier, and you said stronger…"

May reached up and took the juice box, poking the little straw into the top. "Guess this night couldn't get any weirder."

An explosion boomed from the TV screen. "If I wasn't supposed to touch it, why was it so _shiny?"_ Andrew demanded. "Damn it, now I have to start over."

May took a drink from the juice box.

Coulson shifted his position on the couch to look at her. "What's gotten you so shaken?"

"A fetus threw my ICER down a hallway and then shattered several thousand dollars of science equipment," May said.

Another explosion echoed from the TV. "Shit! And I had that awesome gun thing!"

Fitz reached over and took the controller from Andrew's hand, making the TV go silent. "Can you… repeat that?" the Scot asked May.

"Skye's baby… she…" May shook her head. "She _talked_ to me. And to Simmons. And she's… she's purple. Little lights. Wispy, sort of."

"Can you repeat that… and make it make sense?"

"I'd rather try to get the awesome gun thing from that troll again," Andrew muttered.

* * *

"You don't need any pudding," Simmons said. "You need to go back to sleep."

"I _was_ asleep. Now I want pudding."

"You just vomited twice," Simmons said, a little more forcefully. "You don't need pudding."

"Simmons," Skye groaned, feebly batting at her friend's face. "Why are you so mean?"

Simmons hesitated. "Skye, do you remember what happened a bit earlier?"

"I guess I was sleepwalking," Skye said. "I remember you and May in the hallway. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I… uh… I'll let you sleep now," Simmons said.

Skye yawned and pulled her blankets up.

"Skye?" Simmons asked, her hand on the light switch.

"Hmm?" Skye responded drowsily.

"You'd tell me… if something was… if something was _wrong_ , right?"

"Wonder if I'd know." Skye yawned again. "But you'd be the first to know. After me, I guess."

Simmons sighed and flicked the light off. As she was about to close the door to the bunk, she heard Skye's sleepy voice again.

"She's nice, isn't she? She's _so_ nice. She sounds beautiful."

 _She sounds_ _terrifying_ was what Simmons wanted to say, but Skye was already breathing steadily.

And anyway, saying something would have confirmed exactly what the baby had wanted to know earlier – _are you afraid of me?_

* * *

"You're awfully quiet," Fitz said once they were in the dark, his arms wrapped around Simmons.

"What could I add to your story about Dr. Garner blowing himself up twice?" Simmons asked, but it felt forced. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I can't focus. I can't concentrate on anything. She… she rattled me."

"Skye?"

"No. Skye I can handle. I'm good at figuring out the medical side of things; it's like an aggravatingly difficult puzzle, but I know there's a solution somewhere. No, I mean…"

Fitz hesitated. "The… the baby?"

"Yes," Simmons whispered. "You didn't see it, Fitz… her _hand_ , and the way she _talked_ to us… it was like she _knew_ us."

Fitz gently brushed hair back from Simmons' face. "Maybe she does."

"But how would she know anything except from Skye?"

"We don't know what her gifts are," Fitz said slowly. "Maybe…"

Simmons let out a muffled sob. "Then she's so much more powerful than Skye. She's… she's not even _born_ and she's able to move objects, leave trails of energy, speak telepathically…"

"Shh, shh," Fitz said helplessly.

"What's she going to be like when she's _born?"_

Fitz could feel her heartbeat racing like a trapped hummingbird. "If she's anything like her mother, she'll be amazing. Just like you, too."

Simmons let out a choked laugh. "Oh, Fitz."

"I never like it when you say _oh Fitz_. It never ends well for me."

"We could change that," Simmons offered, and she smiled. "Oh, Fitz, would you ravish me?"

"Well, I like the sound of _that_. Actually, I'm not entirely sure what that entails, but I'm sure I'd like to find out."

* * *

Coulson passed Andrew a tumbler. In turn the doctor passed that to May, who sat on the sofa behind him.

"A gifted fetus," Coulson said heavily.

"A _very_ gifted fetus," May agreed, taking a long swig from her tumbler.

"I see why you save the good stuff for the really difficult occasions," Andrew said. He drained his glass and held it out. Without another word, Coulson refilled it.

They drank in silence for several long dark moments.

"All of the things Skye's dealt with so far have been awful," Coulson said eventually, tilting his tumbler so the ice clinked against the far side. "The information Mack got from Lincoln doesn't sound any more promising. There are no guarantees, there's no rule book, there's not a doctor in this world or any other that knows what the next twenty-ish weeks are going to be like."

"What about the boxes we brought back from Afterlife?" May asked. "There might be something in there."

"We can take a look," Coulson said, and he took a long drink. "In the morning."

"I'd like to try to speak with Skye again in the morning as well," Andrew said. "We didn't really get a chance to have a full conversation, and I think this is as trying mentally as it is physically for her."

"And on all of us," May said softly.

"We're in the dark on this," Coulson agreed.

A red light over the office door began to strobe and an alarm started to wail. May had her tumbler on the desk and her weapon drawn before Coulson had even registered the alarm.

"Mack and Bobbi aren't due back until tomorrow," May murmured to Coulson. "We got any other incoming packages?"

Coulson shook his head. "It's the entry sensor from the garage."

He reached into his desk drawer and took out his gun, handing it to Andrew. "You're probably going to be a better shot. I'm several drinks ahead of you… and I only have one hand."

"Okay," Andrew said, taking the weapon. "What's your plan?"

"I was thinking about doing something hilarious with a frying pan, but I guess I'll just be the welcoming committee."

The threesome approached the secured doors to the garage without finding any enemy combatants. Coulson held up his hand and hurried up to the video monitors showing the live security feed. A woman was standing directly before the camera, holding a large piece of poster-board with six words scrawled on it.

 _Hello, Director Coulson._

 _How's the baby?_


	12. Unsettling

**A/N:** Hi, guys. I know it's been awhile, and I don't have a lot of excuses. The past few weeks it seems all I've been doing is working and trying to sleep and missing my gorgeous girl. Grief flat-out sucks. It's exhausting. It's rage-inducing. She is gone and that is still so hard for me to accept. I haven't had any desire to write.

But I want to keep on keepin' on, updating the stories in order or mostly in order, and I finally had some ideas for this story. If you haven't caught up on Season 3 yet, you might not recognize a certain character who appears here. If you've been watching, you'll know exactly who she is.

Thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites/sends me messages to check in on me. You are amazing.

If you don't read "stretta malguena," I'm looking for a few people to consult with me on a story I'm working on. It's an AoS AU and I don't want to post it until I've got most of it done, but I want to see what people think of the concept and the style. If you'd like to get in on that, please let me know. I'm not quite ready to start consulting with others yet, but it will be soon.

Enjoy!

* * *

The woman looked completely normal, minus the large piece of poster-board. Her outfit consisted of a sleek black pantsuit, bright red blouse, and sharply-pointed heels. The poster-board suggested a devoted sports fan; the outfit screamed "senior partner."

"Do you know her?" Andrew asked.

Coulson shook her head. "I've never seen her before in my life."

"She knows you," May said.

Coulson started to speak, but his attention was drawn away from his comrades by sudden movement behind the woman. Men, extremely armed men, wearing modernistic tactical suits and carrying some very extremely advanced weaponry, filed into the garage behind the woman.

Andrew let out a low whistle. "She's a dragon lady."

"And she brought her dragon army," May said flatly.

From behind them they heard a soft whimper. May whipped around, weapon drawn, only lowering it when she realized it was Skye, weaving down the hallway, looking extremely disoriented.

"Skye, what is it?" Coulson asked.

"Something's wrong," Skye said. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glassy; she leaned heavily on the wall for support, the other hand pressed against her belly. "Can't you hear it? Something's…"

She swayed on her feet and Coulson darted over, catching her before she collapsed. He lowered her gently to the ground. "Hey, kiddo," he said, tapping her face. "Open your eyes."

"I'll get Agent Simmons," Andrew offered, and he ran off.

"It's so loud," Skye murmured, and she looked up at Coulson.

"What's loud?" he asked.

"That pulsing…" Skye grimaced and flinched in his arms.

"She's got another poster," May said.

"What's the dragon lady telling us now?"

"It says 'Let us in. We'll make it stop.'"

"Does she know we don't negotiate with terrorists? Or strange women who show up in our secured base garage after midnight?"

" _Unh_." Skye let out a grunt of discomfort, her hand trying to get up to her nose. The grunt turned into a moan, and she writhed, her body a knot of discomfort and confusion.

Coulson went pale when he saw what she was reaching for – the blood trickling out of her nose.

"And… another message," May reported. "This one says, 'The nose will be first. Then the ears. Then the –'"

"Just open the damn door and get them in here," Coulson said.

May began the process of releasing the garage doors from the secure lock-down, providing an entrance for the pantsuit-clad stranger.

As the doors began to open, Skye tried to curl in on herself, thrashing wildly Coulson's arms.

"Is the pulsing gone?" he murmured.

She shook her head. "No, no, so loud, and it _hurts_ … Coulson, please don't let them… take her," she whispered to him.

Coulson wasn't sure what the dragon lady (as Andrew had so aptly called her) was expecting to see, but it probably wasn't a grown man with one hand clad in a Captain America T-shirt and jeans cradling a young woman whose bruise-splotched arms flopped like a rag doll's limbs, her slender fingers wiping blood from under her nose before returning her hands to her belly.

He was suddenly extremely conscious of the movement under his good hand; the baby was kicking. Then he was conscious that the dragon woman was speaking.

"… medical assistance, Director Coulson? Surely a young woman in her condition needs special care."

"And she receives it," a stern British voice informed the dragon lady. "Generally without someone using a sonic frequency manipulator."

Coulson turned. Simmons strode up the hallway towards them, somehow looking impossibly authoritative in flannel pajamas dotted with kittens and stars.

"Turn… turn off… make it stop," Skye pleaded. She reached out for Simmons.

The dragon woman whipped around and glared at one of her minions. "Prescott," she said in a low voice.

"Ma'am," Prescott said, and he looked down at the black box he held, fiddling with some dials.

Skye's body relaxed in increments, her gaze locked on Coulson's face. "Why? Why would they do that?" she whimpered.

The baby kicked again and Skye winced.

"Looks like you're in over your head," the dragon woman went on.

"How about we start with some introductions?" Coulson said.

"Very well. I'm Rosalind Price, head of the ATCU. You're Phil Coulson, a man who's supposed to be dead, although you look pretty good for a corpse. Behind you is Melinda May, your trusted first lieutenant, and back in the doorway there is Dr. Andrew Garner, a psychiatrist known for treating gifted individuals for SHIELD. The young woman with the cat pajamas and the insolent scowl is Dr. Jemma Simmons, a noted biochemist. And as for the pregnant girl there on the floor with blood running out of her nose, well, we know very little about her – except that she's gifted, her child is gifted, and she's apparently very sensitive to sonic wave manipulations."

Coulson shifted Skye's weight in his lap so he could turn and look at May. She gave him the briefest of shrugs.

"What do you want?" Coulson asked eventually.

"Well, we could start with the reasons SHIELD still exists, follow that up with a discussion of why SHIELD is interested in tracking gifted individuals following the events in Sokovia, look into your test results from the, uh… fetus, and if there's a spare moment or two in there, I wouldn't mind a glass of water."

"ATCU," Simmons said before Coulson could respond. "You're the Advanced Threat Control Unit."

Her voice was shaky. "Skye's not a threat."

Realization dawned on Coulson. "You're with the government."

"The real government," Price said. "The kind that, you know, actually exists. I mean, the president of this country actually sanctions us, and I'm pretty sure SHIELD was last referred to as a 'terrorist element.'"

"Ouch," Coulson said. "Going right for the heart there, Roz?"

"We're here because we have intel that your… well, whatever she is…"

"She's an agent." May spoke firmly.

"… is contaminated by the alien gene and carrying a fetus contaminated by the alien gene. We've come to neutralize the threat."

"Neutralize this," Simmons said hotly. "Skye isn't a threat, and she's not going to go to any secret base so you can experiment on her."

Price pursed her lips. "Interesting. I didn't even mention that. Must have been on your mind already. Tell me, Agent Simmons, how much experimenting have _you_ done?"

Coulson saw Simmons' face go bright red, but before she could yell anything, May stepped forward and grabbed the younger woman's shoulder.

"I'd be more than happy to discuss things with you in my office," Coulson said, turning back to Price.

"There's nothing to discuss. We have an order to contain and neutralize threats, and…"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Skye let out a terrified moan and the box Prescott was still holding flew across the hallway, slamming against the brick wall and scattering its pieces across the floor.

Coulson looked down at Skye. Blood was still running from her nose. "Simmons, let's get Skye somewhere more comfortable," he suggested. "I'll discuss things with Ms. Price and her team."

Andrew and May half-carried Skye into the medical bay. She tried to grab onto Coulson's shirt, her bloody fingers leaving prints like dark red drops of rain on the fabric. "Don't let them take her," she pleaded. "No matter what they show you."

"No one's going anywhere," Coulson murmured.

He straightened up. "Please, right this way."

"I will be leaving a few of my men to look after the asset," Price said.

"If by 'asset' you mean my _agent_ , that would be fine." Coulson indicated a doorway off to one side. "There's a small lounge area through there. Water, juices, probably some crackers. A deck of cards."

Price turned to her followers and without saying another word, two men peeled off from the group and headed for the lounge door.

"Simmons, I'll be right back," Coulson said. "Agent May, would you accompany me?"

May nodded.

"We'll be here," Andrew said quietly.

Coulson hesitated at the door. "Oh, and Agent Simmons?"

She looked up, already running the scanning program over Skye's body.

"Perhaps someone could help you clean up the mess in the hallway. Ask Agent Fitz."

He didn't want to explicitly say _go figure out what the hell hurt Skye like that_ , but he could see understanding in Simmons' eyes.

"Thank you, sir," Simmons said.

Coulson moved out of the med bay, pausing only briefly in front of Price. "My office is this way."

"Charmed," Price said.

* * *

Simmons spoke with Fitz, her voice urgent and low. They stood in the hallway, just out of sight of the two men in the nearby lounge area.

Andrew waited to make sure they were all right before he turned back to Skye. Her face was pinched and her eyes were glassy; her whole expression was just plain _wrong_. "Can you tell me how to help?" Andrew asked gently.

"So scared," Skye managed to get out.

Andrew believed it. The monitoring clip Simmons had attached to Skye's index finger showed that her heart rate was unbelievably high, and he could hear Skye's shaky breathing. "Does anything hurt?"

"It all hurts," she whimpered. Her teeth were chattering.

Andrew looked around the treatment room for a blanket. Finding a few in the corner, he pulled them free and began wrapping them around Skye. "Any better?"

"I'm so tired."

"It's okay to go to sleep."

"If I sleep they'll take her."

"No one's going to let that happen, Skye," Andrew said firmly. "She'll have to get through all of us first."

She pulled one of the blankets tighter around her, seemingly attempting to get her body as small as possible. "She doesn't see any of you as threats."

"Because we're not."

"No. Just me," Skye said. She pulled another blanket over her head and balled up further.

"You're not a threat, Skye," Andrew said. "But you _are_ tired. Just rest, all right?"

"I'm so tired," Skye repeated, her voice muffled under the blankets.

He heard her say it one more time – _I'm so tired_ – and a beep from the monitors let him know her heart rate was slowing. He heard a yawn, and then he watched as Skye slowly uncurled her body, until she became a series of bumps under the pile of blankets.

Simmons came back in and picked up where she'd left off, running tests and checking vitals. Fitz followed a few minutes later, carrying the pieces of the mysterious box Prescott had been using to torture Skye.

"It looks like it's a sub-sonic pulse emission device," Fitz said to Andrew.

"I'll take your word for it."

"For someone who can understand frequencies and manipulate them the way Skye does, this would have… uhh… disrupted…" Fitz looked down at the remains of the box. "… brain waves."

"Hers or the baby's?"

"Most likely not the baby's," Fitz said. "After all, that's not… uhh… that's not its gift."

He turned to Simmons, who was attaching a new bag of fluids and medicine to the cannula in Skye's foot. "Will there be any… any more negative side effects?"

"The bleeding seems to have stopped and she's very relaxed at the moment," Simmons answered. "I think she just needs to rest and remain calm."

"What were they trying to do with that device?" Andrew asked.

Fitz considered the pieces in his hands. "Well, uh, it could be a few things."

"One of those things more likely than the others?"

Fitz's face went gray. "They were probably trying to, uh, to kill…"

He trailed off, unable to let the words out of his mouth. Instead he settled for gesturing at the rounded swell of Skye's abdomen, still plainly visible and identifiable under the blankets.

"Okay," Andrew said. "But if that's the case, who told them about the baby in the first place?"

* * *

"Imagine my surprise when an anonymous tip was called into our headquarters," Price said, leaning back in her chair.

Coulson leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. "Well, we don't know each other very well, so I'm positive I have no idea what surprises you and what doesn't."

"I'll tell you what surprises me – information that one of Nick Fury's closest allies, the hardest working man with the first name 'Agent' is still alive, _years_ after he was conclusively pronounced dead before the Battle of New York. I was also surprised to find that Mr. Agent was still running the most dangerous espionage unit in the country," Price said. "An organization that no longer exists. You're perfect for each other, you and SHIELD. You don't exist, SHIELD doesn't exist. A match made in… Tahiti, you might say."

Coulson didn't need to turn his head to know that May was glaring at the dragon lady. "Yes. Being alive is a bit of a surprise to me too. Fortunately, I've got a to-do list that's like twelve pages long, so I tend not to focus on it too much."

"Hmm," Price responded.

"Is that all that surprised you? Is that the reason you came bursting in here?" Coulson asked. "Because honestly, we prefer phone calls."

"I thought you might," Price said, nodding. "But yes, we have a reason. Our anonymous caller was the one who clued me in to the presence of your agent… what was her name again?"

Her voice was so smooth and sly that Coulson wondered how he'd avoided paying for such a performance.

"Her name is Skye, as you very well know," Coulson replied. "And your caller… what was _his_ name again?"

"He didn't give a name."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"And what did he say – that someone named Skye was with the man who's supposed to be dead? Not enough information for a midnight raid for my tastes, but I'm old-fashioned."

"I figured," Price said, making a show of looking around his office.

Coulson glanced over at May. She gave him a tiny shrug.

"Well, this was a great visit," Coulson said. "Thanks for stopping by. Sorry we don't have any coffee cake to offer you."

"Aren't you interested in what _else_ the caller said?"

"I'm really not."

"Hmm. Nice to see that curiosity is the first thing to die," Price said. "Well, then allow me to get to the point. Agent Skye is carrying a dangerous child. We're here to remove her from your premises and escort her to our facility until she gives birth."

"So far, the kid is still safely inside and it's not dangerous," Coulson said, well aware that he was lying through his teeth.

May shifted on her feet next to him.

"Beyond that, Skye needs…"

"We know she's an alien," Price said abruptly. "We know she's dangerous. Our caller had fairly convincing evidence that she was the one responsible for the outbreak of these new alien threats we're seeing. She just skyrocketed up the list of people we'd like to talk to."

"You have a list? I have a list too. Just two names, though. First, your 'anonymous' caller."

"That information's classified," Price said, her sultry red lips forming into a devilish smile. "Who's the other person on your list?"

"I'm sorry, that's classified as well," Coulson said.

"Then we seem to be at an impasse." Price turned to look at her men behind her. "Find the girl. She comes with us."


	13. Pulsing

**A/N:** All hail NaNoWriMo, the reason I'm able to churn out one-a-day updates to all of my long-term stories. Also, two thumbs up to "Welcome to Night Vale" for reintroducing the phrase "all hail" into my vernacular.

Next to be updated: "now hear this"

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites/sends me messages. I'm so happy that you're all enjoying the things I'm putting out into the world.

Next time: everyone recovers from the shocking revelation at the end of this chapter, we find out what Rosalind was _really_ after, Mack gets a new mission, Simmons and Bobbi discuss baby clothes and baby furniture, and May makes a decision about how best to support Skye.

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye groaned.

Simmons looked over at her. She was still a huddled form under the blankets, but she'd been rolling back and forth, tossing and turning restlessly for the last half hour or so. Her discomfort and agitation seemed to be increasing. "Skye? Do you need something?"

Skye whimpered.

Simmons moved towards the bed and gently pulled the blanket down from Skye's head. Under it Skye's face was flushed and her eyes were glassy. "Skye, can you talk to me?"

"It's too hot."

Simmons put her palm on Skye's forehead and winced sympathetically. "Yes, this seems like a fairly high fever. I'll see what I can do about it."

She moved away to gather supplies.

Fitz came back over. "I think I figured out how to… uhh… reassemble the device."

"Do we want to do that?" Simmons asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's either that or destroy it."

Skye sat upright and shoved the blankets off. "I have to go."

"You don't need to go anywhere," Simmons said. "You're not well."

"I have to go."

"No," Simmons said. "You can stay right here."

Skye got to her feet, only a tad unsteadily, and began weaving her way across the room.

"Skye, sit down," Simmons said firmly. "You're not well."

"She wants me to go."

"Who? Your… daughter?"

Skye shook her head, eyes still faraway. "The dragon woman."

Fitz and Simmons exchanged a glance. "The woman from the ATCU?"

"She's got people in boxes."

"Um, okay," Fitz said.

"Boxes. And she wants to study them."

"How do you know this?" Simmons asked, though what she really meant was _What the hell does that mean?_

Skye shook her head dismissively. "I have to go."

Simmons took a breath. "Where do you have to go?"

"Over there, first. Then down the hall."

Simmons threw up her hands. "Fine. Just… go. And whenever you're done with whatever this bizarre mission is, come back, and I'll have some painkillers for you, and something to take down your fever."

Skye navigated around the bed and walked off.

"That seems like a bad choice," Fitz said.

"What was I going to do to stop her?"

From the hallway there was a loud _slam_ , followed by a lot of yelling.

Simmons and Fitz bolted out of the lab. Angry fists were beating on the door to the small lounge where Price's men were stationed, angry voices were calling out from behind it, mostly variations on "Hey!" and "Let us out!"

It didn't take very long to figure out what had happened – Skye had quaked the door shut and locked it – but her reasons for doing so were still unclear.

"She said she was going down the hallway," Fitz said.

They took off without another word, sprinting down the hallway towards Coulson's office.

* * *

"Was the base expecting any other visitors tonight?" Bobbi asked as she shut down the quin-jet.

"There weren't any other travel manifests filed," Mack replied. "Why?"

Bobbi nodded at the three official-looking black vans parked at the side of the garage. "I'm thinking they didn't just acquire three new vehicles while we were in Canada."

"You think someone took over the base?"

"I feel like that might be a little much, but I'm almost positive that anyone who shows up in black mystery vans isn't here with a basket of cookies and a puppy."

"You wake Hunter up. I'll make sure the coast is clear before we head in."

Bobbi nodded.

Mack lowered the plane's ramp, drawing his ICER as he went. A quick scout around the general area was uninformative and produced absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. As he moved towards the doors leading into the Playground, though, he noticed some pieces of poster-board right underneath the access cameras. He crouched and picked them up, reading the strange messages there:

 _Hello, Director Coulson. How's the baby? Let us in. We'll make it stop._

"Shit."

Bobbi and Hunter were close behind, and he showed them the posters.

"I bet it's Ward," Hunter muttered. "Seems like the kind of show-off thing he'd do."

Bobbi shook her head. "Doesn't feel like Ward. It's too much of a tease. Ward would just blast in here and more things would be on fire."

"Whoever it is, it doesn't seem like they're here on a friendly mission," Mack agreed.

"Stop what, though?" Bobbi mused as Hunter scanned his badge, letting them into the base.

"I don't have any idea," Mack replied. "But it's…"

He froze.

"What is it?" Bobbi asked, coming up behind him.

Mack gestured wordlessly to the floor only a few feet from the doors, where a smear of blood marred the tile. It wasn't a lot of blood, but it was eye-catching and certainly enough to strike fear into the hearts of anyone coming in to an unknown situation to face unknown circumstances.

"It's not enough for it to be…" Bobbi cut herself off, unwilling to utter something like _for it to be a miscarriage_. Or _a head shot._

"But it's proof something's going on," Hunter said. He drew his weapon.

A bit further down the hallway they passed the small lounge area closest to the lab, and could hear pounding from the other side accompanied by loud masculine yells.

"I'm guessing these are bad guys," Hunter said.

"Hunter, go check the lab," Mack said. "We'll go try to find everyone else. Rendezvous with us whenever the lab's clear."

"Stay safe," Hunter said.

Bobbi nodded.

She and Mack were only a few feet past the locked lounge door when bullets ripped through it.

More voices filtered out into the hallway, slightly louder than before.

"Damn it, Gruber! Why the hell didn't you shoot the _doorknob?"_

"Who was the asshat who _screamed_ when that freak slammed the door on us?"

"If Price hears you talking like that she'll…"

"She'll _what_ , Gruber! We're already locked in a dark closet because of one of Price's pet alien specimens, and God only knows how many more are out there waiting for us!"

"You're right, Deaver! Maybe _that's_ why I didn't shoot the doorknob. I don't want to get brain-sucked like Wiseman and Brooks."

"No one's going to…"

Bobbi kept moving, and Mack followed.

"Who are these assholes?" he asked Bobbi, his voice low.

"No clue," Bobbi answered. "But they mentioned someone named 'Price' and the ever-popular phrase 'brain-sucked."

They rounded a corner and stopped immediately.

Skye stood just outside Coulson's office, her head tilted to the left. Her hands were down by her sides, but they shook in their casts, and faint trails of purple energy rose in wispy tendrils around her fingers.

"Whatever I was expecting, it definitely wasn't _that_ ," Mack said.

* * *

Coulson hated when some of his more memorable lines came up again, mostly because he tended to say those memorable things during horrible, terrible situations. But he couldn't stop himself; he shot to his feet. "You want her, you go through me!"

Price didn't even seem fazed by it, and Coulson wondered if that was because he wasn't holding a gigantic glowy gun. _I really have to get more of those_.

"Fine," Price said, and she looked to the three men who'd accompanied her into the office. "Prescott, Davies, Lind? If you'll see to Director Coulson…"

"And me," May said, her voice low and deadly.

Price shrugged. "Have it your way."

Her agents swarmed towards Coulson and May while Price herself opened the door. Coulson had only a brief second to see her step briskly out into the hallway before one of the men came towards him, raising the futuristic-looking pistol with the glowing end.

 _I_ _really_ _need more glowing guns._

Price was blown back into the room by an unseen force. She tumbled to the floor like a rag doll.

Coulson whirled around in time to see Skye moving into the room, one hand held out in front of her, vibrational force still pouring out from her, pinning Price to the floor.

"Skye," May said, her voice gentle.

Skye's presence stunned the three ATCU men, and they lowered their weapons nearly immediately.

"Skye, look at me," May said.

Skye's attention was still captivated by the writhing woman on the floor. "It's too hot."

Coulson and May shared a glance.

"You can't hurt her," Coulson said. "That's not who you are, Skye."

"It's who she wants me to be."

She spoke as though she was drugged, or under the influence of something or someone else. May caught the merest hint of purple energy flowing up Skye's arms and she took a few more steps towards the girl in the doorway.

"Skye, whatever's doing this isn't you. I know you're scared, and I know things aren't making much sense right now. But this isn't you. You're not in control right now. You need to fight."

Skye's eyes drifted towards May, then immediately locked back onto Price. "She has to stop."

"She will," Coulson said. "We'll take care of it."

"Fight it, Skye," May said, a bit more firmly. "Fight back. I know you're still in there."

"The box."

"What box?" Coulson asked.

May looked over at him. "The one they used to pulse sound waves at her?"

Coulson shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

May turned to the three terrified men on the other side of the office. "What was the purpose of that box?"

They didn't respond or react until she raised her gun in their direction. "What. Was. The. Purpose."

"Disrupting brain waves through sub-sonic pulses," one of them spit out hurriedly.

"It also had a component thought to stimulate neuro-electric interfacing," another added.

On the floor, Price let out a groan.

"Skye, _stop_ ," May said firmly. "Hands down, look at me."

Coulson took a step towards Skye. "Neuro-electric interfacing. Is that what the baby's doing?"

May nodded, keeping her weapon on Price's men. "So they've got a weapon to weaken Skye and then a weapon to enhance the baby's abilities. Sounds like a match made in hell to me."

"We don't have a lot of options here," Coulson said, taking another step forward. "If she keeps this up she's going to kill Price, and I'm feeling like that would be really bad for us and our public image."

"We don't have a public image."

"Yeah, well, maybe someday we'd like to have one again." He moved forward once more. "And taking out the head of a government-sanctioned organization seems like it would put us at the losers' table."

May lowered her weapon. "Whatever you're going to do, remember – hurting Skye is going to absolutely crush everyone else at this damn base."

Coulson shrugged. "I'm hoping this will take her attention off Price and perhaps jolt her back into control."

He stepped directly in front of her.

* * *

Skye slammed back into her body as the vibrations she was putting out came into contact with something else. Something closer, and heavier.

"Coulson!" she screamed.

"Hands… down…" he managed to grunt.

Shocked by her actions, Skye immediately froze, her hands dropping to her side. On the floor, the dragon woman let out a groan. Coulson staggered forward, wrapping his arms around Skye.

"I… hurt…"

"I'm sure you do," Coulson said.

"I hurt… _you_ ," she got out, stunned.

"It's all right. You weren't in control."

"I don't have any control," Skye whispered. "I can't… I can't control it anymore."

She felt her knees give out; strong arms wrapped around her from behind, carefully lowering her to the floor. "It's okay, Tremors. I've got you," Mack said softly. "Jesus, you're burning up."

She clung to his arms, and for the first time he realized where the blood on the floor had come from – her fingers were stained red and there was a slight reddish smear beneath her nose.

Coulson looked up at Bobbi and Hunter, who flanked Mack in the doorway. "Welcome home. How was Canada?"

"Very cult-y," Bobbi replied. She indicated the strangers with her chin. "Who are these folks?"

"The head of the ATCU and three of her loyal foot-soldiers," May replied.

"The ATCU? Not HYDRA? Glad to see we're still able to acquire new enemies after all this time," Hunter muttered.

"Um, sir?" One of the ATCU agents spoke. "Would it… would it be possible for us to collect Ms. Price and exit your base?"

Coulson looked over at them. All three looked extremely shaken, and he couldn't blame them. He felt tossed about, too, and not just from Skye's shake-down. "I guess that would be the best outcome for this situation, wouldn't it?"

The men nodded.

"Okay," Coulson said. "We'll have Ms. Price checked out by our medical staff and then you can make your hasty exit."

"Thank you."

"And sir?" another one of the agents said. "Ms. Price wasn't forthcoming with information, but I know the name of the anonymous caller. We have him in custody back at ATCU headquarters, pending interrogation and further debrief of the situation."

"Would you consider letting us speak with him?" Coulson asked.

"I can't make that kind of promise," the agent replied. "But I will tell you his name, as a show of good faith."

Coulson nodded.

"Lincoln. He said his name was Lincoln."


	14. Jolted

**A/N:** All right, so... this isn't what I thought this next part was going to look like, but honestly I've not had much of an interest in writing _anything_ lately (except goofy little six-sentence fics on Tumblr), so I went with it. There was going to be more, but I'm trying to stick to a strict schedule now that I'm back to work again, since not getting enough sleep really jacks up my entire system, so it's time for me to go to bed. I'll try to get the next part up soon, but if the spirit moves me to write something else, that's what I'll do.

I wanted to reassure everyone that I'm still here, I'm still continuing all of my stories, and I am still receiving and loving comments and messages. Thank you all for being so supportive. Everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites is just amazing.

I can't wait to see what you all think about this chapter. I wrote this chapter while listening to Lindsey Stirling's "Shatter Me" album, if you'd like a soundtrack suggestion.

I'm memorysdaughter on Tumblr - come yell at me. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

The ATCU agents gathered up Price and left the base nearly as quietly and mysteriously as they'd entered. Coulson closed the garage doors behind them and turned to the team. "We need to have an emergency meeting _now_. Five minutes."

He stepped towards Mack, who had Skye in his arms, and pulled Bobbi into the huddle along with them. "I want you to take Skye to Fury's Retreat," Coulson said quietly. "She'll be safe there from the ATCU and from whatever Lincoln thinks he's doing. And if her pregnancy continues to be out of control, that's the best place for her."

Bobbi and Mack exchanged glances. "What about medical care?" Bobbi asked.

"We can fly Simmons in and out as needed," Coulson answered, "although I'm going to try to get in touch with someone else I know who might be of more assistance."

Skye mumbled something and curled in towards Mack.

"We can't keep her here," Coulson said, though it was clear from the expression on his face how much that fact hurt him. "Whatever the baby's doing to her, it's putting the rest of us at risk, and we're running out of options."

Again Bobbi and Mack exchanged looks.

"If that's what you think is best, sir, we'll support that decision," Mack said.

"Until we can come up with something better, it's all I've got," Coulson said. "But we won't leave her alone _ever_ , not now that we know the ATCU is gunning for her."

"Why do you think Lincoln would go to them?" Bobbi asked.

Coulson shook his head. "I have no idea. How did he seem when you left him in Canada?"

"Extremely irritated with us," Mack said.

"And maybe both a bit irritated and terrified about what's happening to Skye," Bobbi added.

"But he didn't seem like he was going to rat on us to our enemies," Mack said. "More like he was going to take a pissy emo walk and then decide we were right."

Bobbi snorted at that.

"I see," Coulson said. "Go put Skye to bed and come back for the meeting."

Mack shifted Skye's weight and nodded. "Be right back."

He carried Skye down the hallway to her room and settled her on the bed. She moaned and reached up for him. "Mack?"

"Yeah, Tremors?"

"This is all wrong."

Mack sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair away from her face. She radiated heat like a boiling pot. "I know. We'll figure it out."

"Why'd it have to happen like this?"

"I don't know. But you're not alone."

Skye let out a bitter laugh, bringing her casted hands down to her belly. "Not for five more months at least. Or sooner, if the serum's still screwing shit up."

"No," Mack said. "That's not what I meant."

He took one of her hands in his. He wanted to ask if she'd heard Coulson's plan, but her eyes were drooping closed. "We're here, Tremors, and that's not going to change."

* * *

Mack entered the lounge and stood behind the couch just as Coulson began to speak.

"Obviously tonight's events with the ATCU have brought things to a head. We need a plan to keep ourselves safe, since we've obviously got people out there looking to ruin our days."

He looked over at May. "Agent May and I have come up with a plan we think will manage the situation for at least the next few weeks."

May didn't seem as though she was fully convinced, but she nodded, giving Coulson the go-ahead to continue.

"Mack and Bobbi will take Skye to Fury's Retreat."

Both Simmons and Fitz spoke at once, their voices clashing angrily.

"You can't just…"

"… you send her away, what's she supposed to think?!"

" – not safe for her!"

"We're going to be…"

"Enough," Coulson said, not loudly but definitely firmly. "I've made up my mind. The longer she's here, the more of a danger she is to herself and to the rest of us."

"She's not a danger," Simmons said hotly.

"Simmons," Coulson said, his voice still firm. "Today she tried to kill the head of the ATCU."

"Not seeing the downside there," Hunter put in.

"She's running dangerously high fevers, she's shattering bones, and she's going through a second Terrigenesis along with the baby. Her powers are out of control. She's violently ill. There's no telling if the serum's effects have truly leveled off or if we're just in some sort of plateau period," Coulson pointed out. "We don't have answers for any of this, and I don't have another way to keep her safe."

Simmons shook her head and muttered something.

"What was that, Agent Simmons?" May asked.

"This is exactly what the ATCU wants you to do," Simmons said, raising her chin and looking directly at May and Coulson. "They want to divide us so they can swoop back in and take Skye and the baby."

Coulson didn't say anything to that. "We will not be leaving Skye there indefinitely, and we won't be leaving her there alone. She will need periodic medical care, and I'd like Dr. Garner to check in with her at various intervals. In the meantime, Hunter, Fitz, and I will be working on figuring out why Lincoln went to the ATCU and what he's really after. Simmons, I want you to oversee the necessary preparations for Skye's trip to the Retreat, and brief Bobbi on any medical procedures that might be required while she's there, just in case we're not able to get you out there fast enough."

A low rumble shook the base, and the assembled agents looked up.

"Skye," May murmured.

"Simmons, let's go figure out what's going on," Coulson said. "Everyone else, you have your assignments."

"Let me get my kit," Simmons said quietly.

* * *

Skye jerked awake feeling as though she'd never fallen asleep. Her stomach violently rebelled and she managed to get out of bed and clumsily half-stumble, half-crawl to the trash can before she started vomiting. Once she started, though, she couldn't seem to stop; more and more spasms of nausea brought up everything she'd eaten and then just mucus and bile.

She coughed and choked and gasped, barely registering the pressure building in her abdomen.

The door opened and she heard voices, but she was caught up in the cycle of vomiting and trying to breathe.

"Skye," Coulson said as he knelt down beside her. "You have to try to stop the shaking, okay?"

She hadn't even realized she was quaking.

Simmons knelt on her other side and briskly rolled up Skye's sleeve. Without hesitating she jabbed a needle into the girl's upper arm.

"Ohhh," Skye moaned.

"A powerful anti-emetic," Simmons said. "It should stop…"

She froze.

"What is it?" Coulson asked.

"Turn on the light," Simmons whispered. "Please."

Coulson quickly got to his feet and flicked the lights on.

Simmons leaned in towards Skye and waited until the vomiting spasm passed, then put her hand hesitantly on Skye's belly. "I think she's grown again."

"What? That's…" Coulson put one hand to his head. "Jesus. Can you tell how many weeks?"

Simmons shook her head. "I'd have to get her down to the lab for that, and I honestly don't think she wants to go there nor has the energy to get there. But… more than five. Less than ten."

"Jesus," Coulson repeated.

"We can't send her away," Simmons said, her tone pleading. "We can't do that. She's not well."

Skye leaned to one side and grabbed onto Simmons' hand. "I'm tired."

"I know," Simmons said gently.

"She's not safe here," Coulson said.

"So call up the Avengers – send her to them!" Simmons said. "Not out to the middle of nowhere."

"The Avengers have bigger things to worry about," Coulson said.

"Yeah? Well, we don't," Simmons said. "This is as big as gets for us."

Coulson shook his head. "I'll see what I can do."

He bent down and helped Skye to her feet. "Lay down, okay?"

"No," Skye said firmly, and for the first time in a while she sounded lucid. "No. No more laying down."

She wobbled towards him. "Stars."

"What?"

"I need… I need to be outside. I need to see the stars."

* * *

May found Bobbi in the lab with Fitz. They were packing up what looked like enough medical supplies for a small country.

"I need to borrow Agent Morse," May said.

"Sure," Bobbi said.

"I'm fine," Fitz agreed.

Bobbi followed May out into the hallway. "What is it?"

May looked up and down the corridor before she spoke again. "We need to get rid of it. Before this goes any further."

"Of what?" Bobbi asked.

May took a deep breath. "Of the baby."

* * *

Rosalind woke, aching and extremely pissed off, in her office. Two of her top agents, Barnes and Bates, were guarding the door, and Lincoln was behind her desk, feet up on it.

"What the hell happened?" Rosalind grit out.

"She quaked you," Lincoln said. "She quaked you and your team of pussies did nothing to stop the situation."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, did you _want_ us to kill everyone at the SHIELD base?" Bates asked. It was a sentence obviously supposed to drip with sarcasm, but in his dry tone it merely grated like sandpaper on a rough stone.

"Maybe just enough to make a point," Lincoln said, glaring at Bates.

"It was Ms. Price or them," Barnes said, and he tossed something at Lincoln.

Lincoln caught it, recognizing it as the box they'd taken to the SHIELD base, the one that would have incapacitated Skye and the baby. It was broken, shattered, absolutely beyond repair. "You are all useless," he said.

"She's more powerful than you said," Bates informed him.

"Skye did this?" Lincoln looked up at the older man.

"Destroyed it," Bates confirmed.

"Great."

Rosalind pushed herself upright. "They were insistent. She's staying with them."

Lincoln scoffed. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough. Skye is Jiaying's daughter. She's more powerful than any other Inhuman I've met. Her… _fetus_ will be more powerful, especially since it's got two Inhumans for parents. We can't let it live. It's too dangerous."

"I don't think putting Skye into containment is the right decision," Rosalind said.

"She nearly _killed_ you, and you're still afraid to make the right call?" Lincoln rolled his eyes. "What a shock."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rosalind demanded.

"I don't think you're as committed to this as you say you are," Lincoln said. "If you were, you might have been convinced to use some more lethal force when dealing with Skye and the SHIELD assholes standing in our way."

He put his feet down. "Next time we're not leaving any room for mistakes."

"What are you suggesting?"

Lincoln stood. "Next time, we do this my way, Mom."


	15. Surging

**A/N:** Let's do this.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites/sends me messages. I appreciate all of it.

I know the updating order has gotten all out of whack, but honestly I'm so happy to _want_ to be writing something again that I don't mind.

I'm memorysdaughter on Tumblr, earthquakedgirl on Twitter, and earthquakegirl on AO3 (which has nearly nothing I've written, but knock yourself out).

I loved blowing all of your minds with the previous chapter, and I look forward to continuing that trend with this one.

Enjoy!

* * *

Skye stood on the roof of the Playground, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyelids burned from fever and her teeth were chattering because she was now chilled, but she wouldn't take her eyes off the sky.

"I don't know if there's anyone out there listening… but if you are, I don't care who, I need some help." Skye pulled the blanket tighter around her. "Mom? God?"

The stars said nothing.

"I need to know everything's going to work out. I need to know…" Skye closed her eyes, feeling tears roll down her cheeks. "I can't do this. I need to be stronger and I'm not. I can't control what's happening and I hate feeling like that. I feel like I'm putting everyone in danger… and that's not what I want. I need to keep these people safe. They're all I have."

She put her head in her hands. The baby wriggled and she felt nauseous.

"Please… please help me to be strong," Skye whispered. "Please keep everyone safe. Please keep this baby healthy… and if there's anything left over, please let me stop vomiting. I know that's selfish, but I'm really tired, and I just want to sleep without throwing up. Um, thank you."

She bowed her head and let the tears continue to flow.

* * *

"What? No," Bobbi said, staring at May. "Why would you think about something like that?"

May's expression didn't change. "It's killing her."

Bobbi shook her head. "That's not a reason to kill it."

"Are you serious?"

"Are _you_ serious? You can't possibly think Skye would want that!"

"I'm pretty sure Skye would like to continue living."

Bobbi put one hand to her head. "I just can't believe this. You… you _care_ about Skye. Why would you want to hurt her like this?"

"You know what's really hurting her? Breaking her own bones. Vomiting constantly. A blood sugar of twelve. The baby going through Terrigenesis. And the fact that _no one_ has been able to do _anything_ to stop _any_ of it."

It was the most Bobbi had heard May say in a very long time, but it didn't make any more sense. "So we're not looking in the right places. Maybe we're not the ones to help her."

May pursed her lips.

"Let us take her to the Retreat," Bobbi said softly. "Let us at least try to fix things. And if we can't… then I guess we'll reassess the situation."

Simmons walked up to them, looking exhausted. "The pregnancy progressed again."

"What?" Bobbi demanded.

"I took a sample of her blood to find out how far," Simmons said. "At this rate she's going to go into labor before we even get her out of here."

May looked between the two women, saying nothing, then walked off down the hall.

"Did I say something wrong?" Simmons asked.

"No," Bobbi reassured her. "I promise. Let's go figure this out."

* * *

Lincoln stood just outside the doors leading to the containment sector and dialed a number on his phone. He would never admit it, but his heart was pounding just a little.

 _Am I really strong enough to do this? Am I really that scared of Skye that I want to risk killing her?_

 _Will the baby have my eyes?_

Then a brusque male voice answered, and Lincoln forgot all of that.

"Who is this, and how did you get this number?"

"You don't know me, but I know about you, and I need your help."

"Help doesn't come for free, and it definitely doesn't come to people I don't know. Explain yourself or I'm hanging up."

Lincoln swallowed. "My name is Lincoln."

"All right, Lincoln, now let's hear how you got this number."

"I got it from Skye."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment Lincoln was convinced he'd hung up on his contact. Then: "I'm guessing she doesn't know you have it."

"No. She doesn't."

"And I'm guessing you're not calling as her romantic paramour to try to get me to back off."

"No. I'm not."

"Hmm. Well, that thickens the plot a bit, doesn't it? What exactly _are_ you calling about, Lincoln No-Last-Name?"

"It's Campbell."

"I'm sorry?"

"My last name. It's Campbell."

A sigh. "Fine. Lincoln Campbell, what can I do for you?"

Lincoln swallowed, hard. This was his last chance to turn around, to change every decision he'd made over the past few days, to go back to SHIELD and try to live a normal life, to try and be a father.

The rage in his stomach overpowered everything else, blocked out all of those thoughts, and he found himself speaking. "I need you to bring me Skye. And if you can't do that, I need you to kill her."

Another pause, and when the man spoke again, Lincoln could hear a distinct smile of pleasure in his voice. "It would absolutely be my pleasure, Lincoln."

"Thank you, Mr. Ward."

"Oh, please, if we're going into this business venture together, you can call me Grant. Now, let's talk about my fee."

* * *

"Nine weeks," Simmons breathed. "She progressed nine weeks."

"She needs another dose of the antidote to the serum," Fitz said. "And she probably needs a dose every day until she delivers. I'll add it to the supplies."

Simmons sank down on the closest chair and put her head in her hands.

Bobbi rubbed her back. "It's okay."

"I wish people would stop saying that!" Simmons exclaimed, jerking her head up. "It's clearly _not_ okay! I can't do anything to help her! None of what's happening is remotely _close_ to okay!"

She resisted the urge to sweep everything off her desk. "I couldn't help her before and I can't help her now! What good am I to her?"

Bobbi wrapped her arms around Simmons, and felt Simmons struggle against her briefly before seeming to melt into the embrace. "You're her best friend," Bobbi said gently. "No matter what happens, you're still there. You listen. You try everything in your power to help her. Just because you can't solve every problem doesn't mean you're useless. You've done more than literally anyone else here."

"And none of it did her any good," Simmons said, her voice muffled against Bobbi's chest.

"She's still here," Bobbi said. "I know that might not seem like a lot, but someone I care about once told me that if you're still alive, you can work on everything else."

Bobbi held Simmons for another few moments and then released her. "Better?"

Simmons nodded.

"I think I'm going to ask Coulson if you can go with Mack to the Retreat," Bobbi said.

"You're supposed to go."

"I know, but I think my skills will be better used here," Bobbi said, thinking back to her conversation with May only a few moments prior. "And you can keep an eye on her, make sure she gets the doses of the antidote and everything else she needs. There's no one better to do all that than you."

She started to walk out of the lab, but Simmons' voice stopped her. "Bobbi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For saying all those things."

"You're welcome, Jemma. They're all absolutely true."

* * *

"Director? Could I speak with you privately?"

Coulson looked up. "My office is empty, Agent Morse. This is about as private as it gets."

Bobbi nodded and closed the door behind her, locking it.

"This is serious," Coulson observed.

Bobbi nodded. "First, I'd like to request that Simmons go in my place to the Retreat."

Coulson considered that. "Reasoning?"

"It makes more sense. Skye needs some fairly involved medical support, and Simmons is both more qualified and more experienced in providing that type of care," Bobbi said. "Also, I would feel badly about leaving the base potentially unguarded, especially since we know the ATCU knows where we are."

"I see your point."

"Mack is more than capable of guarding the Retreat," Bobbi went on. "He might not agree with me, since I've never heard him say it aloud, but he really cares about Skye. I think this whole thing has thrown him for a loop, especially since in these kinds of situations he feels helpless."

"I think we all do," Coulson said.

Bobbi nodded. "I could take them to the Retreat and return here to base."

"Good. That's what we'll do, then. What was the other thing you wanted to talk about?"

"How did you know there was another thing?"

"Well, you said 'first,' which implies there's at least a second." Coulson sat back in his chair, smiling wryly.

Bobbi sat down on the other side of the desk and reached for the legal pad he'd been writing on. She tore off the top sheet and grabbed a marker from a can of writing utensils on the desk, writing her message in plain, bold printing.

 **Agent May wants to kill the baby.**

Coulson read it and color drained from his face. "No. That's impossible."

 **I swear it's true.**

"Did she mention… _how_ she'd like to accomplish that particular task?"

Bobbi shook her head. **But I don't think she should be alone with Skye for any length of time.**

"I agree."

"Did she mention _why_ she'd try to do something like that?"

Bobbi nodded. **The baby's killing Skye. At least, that's what May thinks.**

"No one knows that for sure."

"Another reason I'm glad Simmons will be at the Retreat," Bobbi said. "You and I both know that Simmons will fight tooth and nail to make sure that both of them survive."

* * *

"It'll be like a girls' weekend!" Simmons said brightly as they flew towards the Retreat.

"Um, what about me?" Mack asked, raising an eyebrow in Simmons' direction.

"So, it'll be a girls-and-Mack weekend!"

"Did you bring nail polish?" Skye wanted to know. "Will we braid each other's hair?"

She shifted in her seat. The baby's head was pressing down on her bladder, and between that and the fact that it was kicking its feet up towards her lungs, she was downright uncomfortable.

"If you want to," Simmons said. "Personally, I think Mack's an autumn, so he might look the best with russet tones. For nail polish, I mean."

Skye winced and shifted again. "God, that's painful."

"What is, Tremors?"

"The thought of Mack being an autumn," she managed to get out breathlessly. "Or the thought of Mack reading gossip magazines while someone paints his nails."

"I'll have you know I'm very up-to-date on my celebrities," Mack said. "I know all of the Kardashians."

Both Simmons and Skye frowned at him.

"Why?" Simmons asked.

"Sometimes it's nice to have something to think about that isn't HYDRA or any of our other various enemies. Or video games. Or whatever Hunter's whining about."

"I hear that," Bobbi said from the front of the plane.

Mack looked thoroughly embarrassed. "I also have a lot of random knowledge about Broadway musicals," he muttered.

"Oh, this _is_ going to be fun," Simmons said, a wicked grin on her face.

Skye leaned back, finally somewhat comfortable. As soon as her head touched the back of the seat, her abdomen muscles tensed, _hard_ ; the spasm reached around her back. " _Jesus!"_ she bit out.

"What? What?" Simmons demanded.

"I think my child just tried to squeeze me to death," Skye wheezed.

Simmons put her hand to Skye's belly, feeling the residual after-effects of the muscle tension. "That was a contraction."

" _What?"_ Skye nearly levitated out of her seat.

"Relax," Simmons ordered, grabbing Skye by her shoulders. "A practice contraction. They're called Braxton-Hicks."

"Oh, thank God," Skye breathed, and she pressed both of her hands to her belly, ignoring the fact it hurt like hell to flatten her broken hands. "You have to stay in there, kid."

Adrenaline sluiced out of her body and she found herself slipping into a doze, her head resting on Simmons' shoulder.

The next thing she knew, Mack was carrying her off the plane; she closed her eyes and drifted off again. The next time she opened her eyes again she was on the bed, which was just as uncomfortable as she remembered. Another drowse and Simmons was next to her, hand on her wrist.

"Skye," Simmons said softly, "I'm going to give you some medication through the cannula in your foot. You don't have to wake up. I want you to sleep as much as you can, try to give your body time to heal."

"Mmkay," Skye murmured, and she slipped back into blank unconsciousness.

* * *

"Explain this to me again," Ward said as he and Lincoln approached the cabin. " _How_ did you manage to find Skye way out here?"

"Tracked her cell phone," Lincoln replied.

"You can do that?"

"I know a guy."

"And what's so damn frightening about Skye _now_? Last thing I knew you were on her side."

Lincoln sighed. "It's a long story."

"Well, we've got about another mile to walk, and then we need to disabled the perimeter fence, so I'd say we've got time. Let's hear it."

"I got her pregnant," Lincoln mumbled.

Ward started to laugh. "Are you serious? _You?"_

"What's so funny about that?"

"You look like the equivalent of soggy shredded wheat," Ward said, still chuckling. "Like you wouldn't even know what to _do_ with a woman."

"Apparently I do, because we're here, aren't we?" Lincoln snapped.

Ward put his hands up. "Okay, okay, I guess that's true. How far along is she?"

"I have no idea."

"What? How do you not know?"

Lincoln sighed. "This is where it gets complicated."

He gave Ward an abbreviated version of the entire story – Skye's mother, Jiaying, being the kind of Inhuman who had to take the life from others to sustain her immortality and rapid healing; the way Jiaying had tried to kill Skye on the boat manned by "real SHIELD"; Cal's subsequent actions, including the rapid healing serum; the effects the serum was apparently having on Skye's pregnancy; and the fetus' accidental Terrigenesis.

"Jesus," Ward said. "And I thought _my_ life was a series of poorly-timed coincidences."

"I haven't even seen her or talked to her since she found out she was pregnant," Lincoln said. "Long story short, I was in Canada trying to find a potential Inhuman in a group of cultists. Her SHIELD compatriots were the ones who told me about it."

Ward stopped. "You mean that you don't even _know_ that she's pregnant?"

"What? I just told you I do."

"You said you haven't seen her or talked to her. You said you heard it from SHIELD. They're liars, man. They could be trying to play you," Ward said.

"Why would they do that?"

"They don't need a reason." Ward shook his head grimly. "If we get out there and this is all a trap or something..."

"It's not!" Lincoln protested hotly.

"But you don't know…"

"Actually, I do," Lincoln said. "Just because _I_ haven't seen her doesn't mean the people I'm working with haven't."

Ward sighed and resumed walking.

"My mother… she works for the ATCU. They went to the SHIELD base with the intent of taking care of Skye and the baby there, but Skye nearly killed my mother and my mother's men were too stupid to do anything about it."

Ward stopped again. "Is there anything else you're not telling me?"

They crested a small hill and Lincoln looked out at a series of massive transformers, obviously controlling some sort of electric barrier. "Just that it's going to be easier to get into this place than I thought."

* * *

Skye woke with the baby flipping and rolling, pushing down on her bladder. "Give me a break," she whispered, and hauled herself out of bed.

Her center of gravity was thrown off, and she found it took her a few minutes to figure out how to walk with the new weight protruding from her middle. Once she could remain upright she waddled off towards the bathroom.

When she was finished, she took a moment to take stock of her surroundings. Simmons was asleep on the other side of the bed Skye had just exited, and a quick check in the living room found Mack on the couch, snoring.

In the kitchen Skye grabbed a packet of Little Debbie snack cakes and took them back into the living room, intending to enjoy her snack while browsing the internet on her phone. She was four emails and one snack cake down when there was a bright flash of light from outside.

The wall panel lit up like a flare. Skye heaved herself out of the armchair and wobbled over to it. "Perimeter Breached" the screen informed her.

Frozen, Skye couldn't figure out what to do.

"Mack," she whispered, panic clenching itself around her throat. "Mack, wake up."

There was no response and Skye's feet wouldn't let her go back that way; instead she was propelled, as though hypnotized, to the door.

 _It can't be Gordon. Gordon's dead._

The baby kicked firmly, and Skye waited for an accompanying mental message. There was nothing.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Grant Ward stood there, aiming a gun squarely at her chest. Upon seeing her, his face split into a grin that terrified Skye, sending chills down into her bones.

"Hello, Skye."


	16. Disruption

**A/N:** This chapter took me forever to write. Like, a week. I don't know what my deal was... especially since I'm on spring break from work. Anyway, here it is. More drama and heartbreak to come in the next chapter, whenever that shows up.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites/sends messages. I love all of the support.

And I never thought I would have to do this, but not too long ago I found out that someone took something I wrote, changed a few things within it, and posted it somewhere else without my permission. I will never give permission for anything I write to be posted somewhere else, unless I myself am the one posting it. Here on I am **memorysdaughter** obviously; over at AO3 I am **earthquakegirl** ; on Tumblr I post as **memorysdaughter**. I do not have any other accounts where I post my work. If you see someone posting anything of mine and claiming it as theirs, please let me know. I was absolutely crushed and absolutely furious.

Enjoy!

* * *

Simmons rolled over. The bed next to her was empty. She frowned and sat up, seeing light spilling from the other room. It was strange blue light, and it was accompanied by a series of low voices. Simmons slid open the nightstand drawer carefully and took out the ICER she'd hidden there, gently lowering it in front of her.

"… and he wasn't lying. Dear _God_ , you're pregnant. You look like you could pop at any moment."

Rage flooded Simmons' body. _Ward_.

"Just… just go away," Skye said. Her voice was shaky and terrified. "Please, just…"

Simmons pressed her back to the wall and turned her head. She could just see the open door, could just make out Ward standing in it, aiming a gun at Skye.

 _Shit._

"Oh, you don't think I'd _leave_ , do you? We have so much to catch up on," Ward said.

"I don't have anything I want to catch up on with you," Skye said, and Simmons was pleased by the way she sounded a bit stronger.

"At least tell me…"

It was all Ward got out before Skye brought her hand up, pulsing him off his feet. Simmons couldn't see where he'd landed, but she heard a dull _thump_ as a body hit the ground several feet away.

Skye slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Simmons moved towards her, ICER raised to sweep the room.

"How did he _find_ us?" Skye gasped to Simmons.

"I don't know," Simmons said, taking charge, "but we'll figure it out."

She reached the wall panel and punched in the code to arm the cabin. Metal panels began rolling down over the windows and doors. With another swift movement Simmons smacked Mack on the shoulder. "Wake up," she barked. "You missed all the excitement."

Mack jerked upright, but before he could say anything, another flare of blue light surrounded the cabin. "What the hell is that?" he asked.

Skye turned. "He wasn't alone," she murmured.

The blue light slammed into the doors and windows; the panel blared an alarm, the screen reading "System Overloaded." The metal shades ground to a halt in their tracks. Mack grabbed his weapon and began scanning the remaining openings. "What's that light?" he grumbled.

Simmons moved to the control panel for the security system and began trying to override the overload, searching for some manual way to seal off the cabin. Not finding one, she turned back to Skye. The other girl had a strange look on her face as she hunched in over her belly.

"Skye? Talk to me," Simmons said.

"I just got… woozy," Skye muttered, and Simmons had a handful of seconds to see her friend sway on her feet before crumpling to the floor.

Simmons bolted over to Skye, seeing blood dripping from Skye's nose. "Shit. Mack, it's the ATCU."

"What? How did they find us?" Mack didn't look over from his vantage point at a half-open window, but Simmons could hear the panic in his voice.

"I don't know, but this is exactly what happened before," Simmons said. She knelt next to Skye, tipping Skye's head to keep blood from pooling in the back of Skye's throat. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Why… would Ward…?"

"I don't know."

"… work with…?" Skye's eyes closed. Her body jerked in on itself and she let out a moan. "Everything _hurts_!"

"I know," Simmons said. "Stay awake, okay? I know it's hard…"

From outside came a voice, accompanying the next surge of blue light and roaring power. "Just bring her out here and there won't be any further issues!"

"Is that…?" Simmons turned towards Mack.

Mack looked shocked. "Yep. Definitely seems to be."

"I'm only interested in her!" Lincoln continued. "Nobody else has to get hurt."

Simmons carefully rolled Skye to one side and stood, joining Mack at the window. "How did he get that box?"

"What's the box do?"

"The ATCU had it," Simmons answered. "It was trying to disrupt Skye's brainwaves and kill the baby. But Lincoln shouldn't have it… not if he's the ATCU's prisoner."

A few beats of silence passed between the SHIELD agents. At last Mack spoke. "I don't think he was ever their prisoner."

"Me neither," Simmons muttered.

"I know you're in there!" Lincoln called. "Bring her out to me and this can all stop!"

On the floor Skye let out a moan.

The lamp on the end table started to wobble.

Mack moved to Skye's side. "Tremors," he murmured gently, "you have to fight this."

"Can't," Skye mumbled. "Too big."

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on his face. "Maybe just…"

She coughed and tried to get her casted hands to her face to wipe blood away. Mack grabbed a dish towel and brought it to her, mopping her face. "Maybe just give me… to him?"

"No," Mack said firmly. "You belong with us."

"He can make it stop," Skye protested weakly.

"We'll get him to stop," Mack said. "Simmons, how's your aim?"

"It's better if I'm not shooting into the darkness with an ICER," Simmons said.

Mack got her attention and tossed her his pistol.

"Are you sure?"

"You know what this thing looks like, right?"

Simmons nodded.

"Then I'm sure."

Skye looked up at Mack. The ringing in her head was getting louder. "Why… why does he want…?" she asked, her mouth feeling detached from her body. "… baby?"

Mack put his hand on her belly. An angry kick pulsed up at his palm.

"She's… unhappy," Skye mumbled. The world was getting very close and her head throbbed.

"Simmons, do it now," Mack said. "Whatever you're going to do…"

Before he could finish his sentence the report of his pistol rang out, followed closely by the sound of an impact – a bullet hitting wood. Another shot rang out, impacting with something soft and heavy.

On the floor at Mack's feet Skye gasped once, then her breathing became easy and regular. The blood dripping from her nose slowed and she rolled awkwardly to one side, eyes drifting closed.

"I got him," Simmons said, her voice low.

She passed him his pistol. Mack holstered it as he moved to the doorway and looked out. The half-open entryway afforded him a view of two crumpled bodies and one extremely fragmented device. "Call Coulson," Mack said. "I'll fix the doors."

It took him ten minutes to reroute the security system. Once the metal panels were securely in place Mack scooped Skye up from the floor and settled her on the bed. Her eyes flickered open and she looked up at him. "I don't like this," she said, her voice slurred and low.

"I don't like it either," Mack said honestly.

"'S this what…" Skye drifted for a moment. "… what our life's like? 'S not good for a baby."

She closed her eyes again.

"But _you're_ good for the baby," Mack said, and squeezed her hand.

Skye let out a snort. "I'm not good for the baby," she muttered. "Out of everyone, I've done the most to get it killed."

That broke Mack's heart. "Well, and you haven't succeeded," he said at last. "So I guess you're not so bad after all."

"Mack?" Simmons called from the other room. "The director wants to speak with you."

"I'll be back," Mack said to Skye, and he squeezed her hand again.

She mumbled something at him, then repositioned her body, turning away from him, curling in over her belly.

* * *

Simmons found her heart slowing as she waited for Coulson to answer the call. Eventually he picked up. "This can't be good news, not if you're calling me within a few hours of leaving," he said.

"I'm sorry to say it's not," Simmons said. "We have some very unwelcome visitors here… we'd like them to leave."

"Visitors?"

"Lincoln. And Ward."

"Together?" Coulson sounded stunned, and Simmons couldn't blame him.

"They showed up together," Simmons said. "How one got in touch with the other I can't say. And here's something else distressing, sir – Lincoln had the neural interruption device the ATCU was using."

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then Coulson spoke, his voice heavy with disbelief. "That's impossible."

"Skye nearly passed out," Simmons said. "I need to go perform a checkup, but I think that device is causing some serious complications."

"We should figure out how to destroy it," Coulson said.

"I shot it," Simmons told him.

"Oh. Well, that works." Coulson sighed. "I have Bobbi in the area with a team. I'll send them to pick up your visitors."

"Thank you."

"And Jemma… please don't hesitate to call again," Coulson said. "I know how bizarre this entire situation is."

"Just find out why they were working together," Simmons said. "And it wouldn't make me sad if either of them felt a lot of pain while you were doing it."

"I assure you, they won't have any secrets when I'm done with them," Coulson said. "And May will probably help."

* * *

Skye opened her eyes and looked up at Simmons. "I'm done," she murmured.

"You're right, I'm almost done with my examination," Simmons said.

"No," Skye said. " _I'm_ done."

"Done with what?" Simmons asked, confused.

"I don't want the baby," Skye said.

"Oh, Skye," Simmons murmured. She put her stethoscope away, resting her hand on the rounded swell of Skye's abdomen. "I'm so sorry all of this is happening."

"I can't be a good mother," Skye mumbled. "I can't take care of a baby. I can't even control what's happening to it right now and it's still in my belly."

She blinked, feeling tears form in her eyes. "I don't have anybody to help… and I know I can't just give it up. It'd be better…"

She trailed off. "It'd be better if it just wasn't here."

"Oh, Skye." Simmons left her hand on Skye's belly, feeling the baby's kicks pulse against her palm. "You're not going to do this alone. I promise."

She gently tugged Skye to one side, putting a pillow between the drowsy woman's legs. Skye sighed in what seemed like contentment, burying her head under the blankets.

Mack was sitting in the living room looking pensive. As Simmons reappeared he turned towards her. "I wish I was there," he said. "I've got a lot of questions for both Lincoln and Ward."

"Me too," Simmons agreed softly. "Me too."

* * *

Bobbi sighed as two teams of agents yanked Ward and Lincoln none-too-gently from the quinjet. Coulson approached as the men were carried off to the medical bay; he looked down at them, his face stony. "How'd we let this happen?" he asked Bobbi quietly.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Bobbi answered. "I feel terrible that we left the three of them there."

Coulson shook his head. "We ran out of options, Bobbi."

"I know." Bobbi rubbed her forehead. "What do they want with her?"

"Ward's always wanted Skye; we've known that," Coulson answered. "And Lincoln… I've never known what he wanted."

Bobbi handed him the neural disruption device. "Found this at the scene. Fitz can add it to the broken one he's working on, now that Skye's not here to be injured by it."

Coulson turned it over. "How the hell did he get this?"

Bobbi shrugged.

They made their way into the base. May approached them. "Ms. Price is on the phone," she said without much pretense.

"I thought she'd be done with us after everything that happened while she was here," Coulson said.

"Apparently not."

Coulson sighed and headed back to his office. Sure enough, Rosalind Price's dour face was on the communications screen at the far end. Coulson sat down at his desk, waiting for his caller to speak first.

"I guess you think you're pretty clever," Price said at last.

"I'm fairly certain you didn't call to talk about my personality. What's this about, Ms. Price?"

"You know very well what it's about!"

"I assure you, I'm as clueless as that film with Alicia Silverstone," Coulson said. "Please enlighten me."

"You kidnapped my s – my informant!"

Coulson stared up at her. "I'm sorry?"

"He's gone!"

"Who is gone?"

"The young man who was the anonymous caller in reference to your agent," Price spat. "He's gone, and I received fairly credible intelligence that he's in your custody."

"And what was his name?" Coulson asked. He was completely aware who she was referring to, but _she_ didn't know that her men had given up Lincoln while their boss was unconscious. Sometimes it was nice to be a jerk to others.

"Lincoln. His name is Lincoln."

"Oh, you know what? We do have a young man here by that name," Coulson said. "And it's funny that he's your anonymous caller, since he's actually been working with us as a consultant for some time. If he had intelligence about anything relating to Skye, I find it strange that he wouldn't just let us know. What would drive him to make an anonymous call to another government agency, especially since he was already working with one?"

Something shifted in Price's face, and Coulson tried to figure out what it was. She looked… conflicted?

At last she sighed. "Mr. Coulson, I suppose…"

"Director Coulson," he interrupted, for some reason still feeling like being a jerk to this woman.

" _Director_ Coulson," Price said with a huff. "I suppose I have not been completely honest with you regarding my involvement with this young man."

"And will that honesty start now?"

Price's face hardened. "Yes. You have my word that it will."

She turned to one side and took a sip from a glass of water on the desk next to her. "Lincoln is my son."

If Coulson had been the one with the beverage, he would have had reason to perform a classic sitcom spit-take. As it was his mouth went open with disbelief.

When he found his voice he managed to get out, "Well. That certainly changes things."


End file.
